#and yet i STILL get all these book lovers jumping down my throat about things i say about the book
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really fucking sick and tired of people who really fucking love the eddie book jumping on people who don't like or are even remotely critical of it's posts and like crusading their opinions around from the top of their high horses and shoving it down our throats.
if you like the book, great! that's awesome! love that for you! i am genuinely glad that you were able to find good in it and enjoy it!!
but not everyone did, and not everyone is going to agree with you. so, instead of going on some grand crusade where you find every single post that includes anything even remotely negative or negative adjacent or even neutrally critical and spending ALL this time and effort trying to provide unwanted rebuttals to every single thing, maybe you should just stay in your lane and find people who DO like the book and chat about it with them.
because i can PROMISE YOU, none of us appreciate it when you come onto our posts and start accusing us of "hating on" the author or "being rude" about her and her work and RIDICULOUS shit like that.
being critical of something and pointing out it's flaws is NOT inherently hating on it. i, frankly, do not know where people got that notion, but it's not fucking true so can we fucking quit assuming it is? and, critiquing something is also NOT the same as saying this is shit and it sucks and the author is a piece of garbage. again, where the fuck that came from is beyond me. you can be critical of something and still enjoy it. as soooo many of you love to point out, it's not perfect, why should it be perfect? so D U H. of course that means criticism can and should arise???
also. hot take (by which i mean ice fucking cold because it's NOT a fucking hot take), but going around toting FALSE facts as part of your "defense" does not make you or your argument look good. you, like the author, should maybe do a basic fact check first. 🙃
tldr, if you like the book, that's genuinely great, but stay in your fucking lane and stop seeking out posts from people who didn't like it to start shit in the notes.
#flight of icarus#stranger things#this has happened to me and to so many of my friends and im fucking SICK of it#i didn't even hate the book either!! i thought it was just okay#and yet i STILL get all these book lovers jumping down my throat about things i say about the book#things that - HONESTLY are not even like that scathing!!!!!#like god damn all im asking for is a little BASIC effort from the author and they all think thats me asking for her head on a platter#its NOT#i have no problem with the author#she's whatever to me honestly just a vessel through which the book was given to us#ALSO she is some nebulous blob way outside my orbit. AS IN any critiques i have of her and her work are NOT direct assaults on her???#like i dont fucking KNOW her#im not saying any of this to her face#she is a published writer she should KNOW the risks she is taking when she publishes her writing#not everyone is going to like it! there are going to be people who are critical of it! there are going to be people who hate it!#critiques and pointing out mistakes and wishing for things to have been different is not a fucking direct attack#those things are actually pretty fucking common responses to ANYTHING#and a lot of times theyre actually meant as useful helpful things geared towards improvement and not something to tear someone down with#some people on the internet need to go touch grass and learn how to CRITICALLY THINK again#the world is not as black and white as you think#n e ways. rant over. if you stuck around through all of that kudos to you. i am just. at the end of my rope with this bullshit.
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September 12th, 1997
Crossing the Bridge
Somewhere Else Under the King
In today's entry, Trilby finds out he's not the only one that's part of the Books of CHZO and Martin leaves the Lovelace estate to move in with Jon:
Trilby feels a migraine coming on.
He reaches for his desk drawer before remembering a.) the only pills he had been keeping on him lately were the tranquilizers and b.) he hasn’t had those since Lydia took them. Which, he can accept that, better to break it now so it doesn’t grow into full blown addiction. Still, the words in the book are blurring together from the pain, and he won’t be able to work if he doesn’t do something.
He turns off his lights, jumps on the computer, turns the brightness of the screen down as far as it goes, and asks Claire if she has any pain medicine.
Claire is there in seconds, letting herself in and already opening a bottle of migraine pills. “Geez, it’s that bad already?”
Trilby nods. “Thanks, Claire.”
“Got any water?” she asks as she sets two pills on the desk for him. “You’re going to burn your throat if you just dry swallow.”
“Ah, yeah, I think I’ve got something,” Trilby says, checking his desk and finding a previously abandoned water bottle. It’s enough to make it better than taking them dry.
“Any idea what brought this on?” Claire asks him.
“Probably reading about myself in a pain cult’s scripture,” he answers. “But I guess if I’m going to be in a family of thieves, at least I get to be the Cunning Thief.”
Claire shrugs and goes, “Yeah, that sounds like you. Any new insights we need to know about?”
Trilby groans. “Not yet. I’ve almost reached the end of the Book of the Bridge, and about all I’ve really learned is that ‘know the name of the King’ doesn’t necessarily mean a person’s died. Might as well most of the time, but there are some exceptions.”
“So what does it mean?”
“That someone’s experiencing agony.”
“Fun. Anything else you need, Trilby?”
He flicks one of the pages up. “Another set of eyes until the meds kick in?”
Claire turns the book around so she can read it right side up. “The Lovers’ Bridge? Seems a bit out of place.”
“The notes indicate it’s often left out of other editions.”
Claire begins reading it in the office’s dim natural light but recoils just as quickly. “What the fuck?!”
“Not so loud,” Trilby whispers.
“Trilby, this is about the Entities!” she whisper-shouts. “About Jon and Martin!”
Trilby stares at her, doing his best not to gawk. “What?”
She points to the page. “Okay, I didn’t give you everything on Jon’s projection because I thought the main parts you needed were Jon and Martin going to the Ethereal Realm and how Jon received his injuries. But then Jon told me about the Entities, and these are the ones he and Martin were tied to.” She traces her finger along the lines. “Watchful Lover tied to Beholding, that’s Jon. Lonely Lover tied to Forsaken, that’s Martin.”
Trilby looks down at the book, not able to read it from this angle and not sure what he’d think if he could. He utters a soft, disbelieving, “Get the fuck out.”
“I’m serious,” Claire tells him.
Trilby props his arms up on his desk and leans his head into his hands. “I think my headache’s only going to get worse.”
-
Jon rings the bell at the Lovelace estate.
It’s the first time he’s been to the mansion, and he wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t Jackson Lovelace himself answering the door.
Jackson stands and stares at him a moment, not saying anything, just looking at Jon with a big smile and a soft huff of a laugh. He seems to come to himself and says, “Jon! So glad to finally meet you. Jackson Lovelace.” He offers Jon his hand.
“Yes,” Jon replies, hesitating just a second before accepting the handshake. If Jackson notices the scarring, he doesn’t mention it. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for Martin.”
“Of course,” Jackson says, letting go and stepping back to give him room. “Please, come in. Have a drink. I believe Martin’s getting the last of his things together.”
Jon nods a little and goes, “Thank you.”
Jackson leads him to a parlor by the kitchen and asks, “What will you have? If it’s alcohol, I’ve got it. If you like tea, I can try but can’t guarantee it’ll be as good as Martin’s.”
Jon shrugs. “Anything’s fine.”
Jackson looks over his wines and picks a red. “Have you ever had Pinotage?”
“No.”
“It’s from South Africa. It recently became a darling in the wine world,” Jackson says as he pours two glasses, already helping himself to a sip. “It can be hard to find a good one, so I’m happy that I managed.”
Jon accepts his glass and takes in the sweet, smoky notes of the bouquet. He takes a sip, the flavor just as promised and the body smooth, definitely an excellent wine. He sees Jackson waiting for his reaction, so he nods his approval.
Jackson smiles and takes another sip. “So, do you like poetry as well?”
“Not particularly. What Martin writes for me is the exception.”
Jackson laughs and goes, “Good to know you won’t try buttering me up with that, then. So what are you up to?”
Jon shrugs and answers, “Started a back office job at a bank.”
“Oh? And how are you finding it?”
“It’s actually more interesting than I would have guessed,” Jon says. “Though I’m still at the point where I’m learning all the relevant laws and regulations. How to look for fraud, money laundering, that sort of thing.”
Jackson chuckles. “I take it Martin is the romantic one?”
Jon ends up smiling more than he means to. “I won’t argue against that.”
“Speaking of, I’ll go see if he’s got everything,” Jackson says, turning to leave.
Jon can hear Martin and Jackson talk as they approach. He doesn’t strain to listen, but he doesn’t do anything to tune it out.
“I think I know the answer, but I’ll ask anyway: are you happy?” Jackson asks.
There’s a tiny pause before Martin answers, “Yeah. I mean, we’re still working on it, but can’t really remember the last time I’ve been this happy, to be honest.”
Jackson hums and says, “Hold on to that, okay? The Order, if they find you, they’ll try to tell you it’s not real. That it’s somehow wrong. And it’s easy to buy into that if you’re not used to it. But this is real. Jon is here for you.”
Martin laughs and goes, “Okay, I know what you’re getting at, but it sounds weird coming from you. Didn’t exactly expect you to be on the list of people willing to wingman for Jon.”
“Oh come on, surely I’ve been on the list since day one,” Jackson playfully argues just as he and Martin enter the room. “Well, I’ve talked you up, Jon. Not that I needed to.”
“Considering I’m already moving in with Jon, I think you’re a little late with your sales pitch,” Martin says as he goes over to Jon. He gives him a kiss and greets him with, “Hello, love.”
“Hello, love,” Jon greets back. “Ready to go home?”
Martin smiles at him, so warm and sweet that Jon can feel himself melting. Even if Jackson’s right about him not being the romantic one, it doesn’t matter when Martin looks at him like that.
“Thought you’d never ask,” Martin answers, holding his hand and knitting their fingers together.
Jon snickers at the cliché of it, but he can’t deny that it feels so good.
Martin turns to Jackson and says, “Thank you for everything. I’ll see you for work?”
“Certainly,” Jackson answers, giving the pair the same look he had when he greeted Jon.
For whatever reason, it puts Jon in mind of a person who just received absolution, like Jackson was waiting for this. He’s not sure what to make of it now and resolves to turn it over later.
“Well, thank you, Jackson,” Jon says. “Good night.”
“Good night,” Jackson replies as he shows the two out.
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that semi-AU romajuliette + benmars fic
i need a permanent place to store this after dumping a random google doc on twitter so here it is, the author writing fic for her own book because people gave me headcanons and they were too good not to make use of
__
the one where juliette and marshall go out for a night out on the town and roma and ben have to go along to supervise because one time they accidentally committed arson —headcanon from twitter user @leonidasvaldz
a semi AU where Benedikt and Marshall were hanging out with Roma and Juliette in those happy months R&J had together in 1922 before everything went wrong (aka you can take this as canon because it will fit the timeline but the characters won’t have memory of this in the actual published books)
Disclaimer: i wrote this in one go inside a starbucks please expect ao3 user chloegong and not Author Chloe Gong who does multiple rounds of edits on her books
Second Disclaimer: nobody go putting this on goodreads before someone on my publishing team kicks my ass (rightfully so, i’m on deadline rn and i’m writing fanfic instead of my real contracted manuscript)
Mandatory reminder that Our Violent Ends is available for preorder with all links here :)
__
It wasn’t supposed to happen again. And yet, somehow, Benedikt was watching fire curl around the side of the building, the roof beams giving a loud groan before shuddering and caving in on itself.
He turned a look onto Roma. “Your girlfriend is a maniac.”
~
Five hours earlier...
Juliette climbed in through the window of Roma’s bedroom, careful to hug the burlap bag close to her chest as she landed on his carpet. The howling wind outside drowned out some of the clinking, but the glass bottles were still making a racket no matter how carefully she hugged the bag. She had gone full throttle for tonight; when no one was watching and her relatives were downstairs crowing over a game of cards, she had snuck around and robbed the liquor cabinets at the Scarlet mansion quite generously. Now she dropped the bag onto Roma’s floor with a huff, brushing a curl of hair out of her eyes.
“Where’s Marshall?”
Roma looked up from where he was reading, putting his book down and rising from the bed smoothly.
“Well, hello.” He strode toward her, stopping before her with his arms crossed. “Lovely to see you too. You do know it is my bedroom you just snuck into, right?”
Juliette pretended to jump in surprise, looking around wildly. “Do you jest? Oh, bother. Let me climb back out and go find my real lover. Marshall! Where are—”
With a huff that seemed to double as a laugh, Roma grabbed her wrist before she could turn around and leave through the window again.
“You’re hilarious,” he said dryly.
“I know.” Juliette reached up with her free hand, clasping her cold fingers right onto his neck. Though her palm was freezing from the bitter temperatures outside, Roma hardly flinched, he only shrugged his shoulder up to keep her hand there. He couldn’t fight back the grin. For several seconds, the two of them only stood there, looking like a pair of idiots smiling at each other.
Then his door opened.
“Are we interrupting something?”
Marshall bounded into the room, throwing the door wide open. With a horrified expression, Benedikt hurried in after him and closed the door quickly, listening for movement on the other side.
“Yes, leave the door wide open,” Benedikt said. “While any White Flower strolling the corridor can peer in and see the Scarlet heir standing there in a silly coat.”
Juliette stepped away from Roma, peering down at herself as if she had forgotten what she put on. “I didn’t think it was that silly. It’s my disguise.”
“You do look a little like a housewife,” Marshall said, considering the coat.
“A fifteen-year-old housewife?”
“I suppose that is exactly why you look a little silly.”
Juliette pulled a face, but refrained from arguing further. She was here tonight because Marshall wanted to see the new Scarlet club that opened along Thibet Road, and she had promised she could sneak him in. Unfortunately, Marshall was bad at keeping secrets, and the worst at keeping secrets from Benedikt. The moment that Benedikt heard Marshall was planning on entering Scarlet territory, he had decided that he would come in accompaniment.
Juliette supposed it was only fair. Benedikt didn’t entirely trust her, but he was nice enough. He tolerated her presence and always kept an eye over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t spotted on their territory if she poked her head in to see Roma. While Juliette didn’t know much about Marshall either, he was far warmer than his best friend, and for the first time last week, they had even enjoyed an outing with just the two of them. Juliette Cai and Marshall Seo—out and about in the border territories on a quaint evening.
That outing had ended with accidental arson though, so it was rather possible that exacerbated Benedikt’s desire to play chaperone. And of course, if Benedikt was coming along, Roma wanted to tag along too.
The arson was hardly their fault, Juliette and Marshall had maintained when the Montagovs asked questions. What kind of person left a stack of hay out beside a bar? And what kind of hay was that easily flammable just from accidentally whacking one of the lanterns on the awning onto the stack?
“All right.” Juliette hauled the bag up again. “Are we ready to sneak onto Scarlet territory?”
“Absolutely not,” Benedikt muttered, strolling past her for Roma’s window. “But is that going to stop either of you?”
Before anyone could answer him, Benedikt had already hopped the small gap between windows, climbing into their neighboring building for their route out unspotted.
“Great!” Juliette said. She passed the bag to Roma so he could do the carrying. What was the point of converting a rival gang enemy into a lover if not to lug around her heavy things? “Glad we’re all so enthusiastic.”
Roma sighed, clambering onto his sill and making the climb too. “The things I do for you, dorogaya.”
Marshall hurried after him. “I would argue you’re actually doing this for me, dearest Roma!”
With a snort, Juliette climbed out last, and pulled the window after her.
~
The Scarlet club had been a bust. Of course, Benedikt had figured that would be the case from the get-go, especially if they were sneaking in at such a late hour to avoid being seen by anyone important in the Scarlet Gang. At least Juliette had provided good alcohol, and now he squinted at the label of the wine bottle under the street lamps while they walked, taking the smaller main roads along the periphery of the city.
Up ahead, Roma and Juliette were whispering to each other, though they didn’t sound like they were talking in full sentences. Those two always communicated in looks and gestures, swapping languages whenever they felt like it and ending up with some incoherent tangle of words that no one else could comprehend.
“Is there anything left in that?”
Benedikt glanced to his side, shaking the bottle to show Marshall. “One last swig. All yours.”
Marshall took the bottle. He put it to his lips and swung up, his head tipped to the sky and the line of his throat bared to the night. Benedikt shivered suddenly, a line of goosebumps rising at the back of his neck. The season had turned cold and the wind that blew onto his face was biting. He wrote off his shudder to the chill, to the temperature dropping with the longer they spent outside at such an hour.
Suddenly, Marshall was squinting into the distance. “Hey.” His call summoned Roma and Juliette’s attention from ahead, who both turned around to see what the matter was.
Marshall pointed to the dark shape off the end of the road. “Isn’t that the abandoned factory we lost to the Scarlets?”
“Is it?” Juliette asked, a sudden glee in her face.
“Why would you say that?” Roma bemoaned. He didn’t bother trying to stop her as Juliette hurried ahead, eager to explore the factory. “Look what you’ve done.”
But Marshall was wearing a similar expression, his eyes scanning the factory as they approached closer and closer. Wordlessly, he handed the bottle back to Benedikt, and though Benedikt’s head was spinning from the drink, he still recognized the exact face that Marshall made before he was going to get himself into trouble.
“Mars—”
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” he insisted, tipping his chin forward. Juliette had disappeared into the factory. “You two be look-out. We wouldn’t want someone finding us here, right?”
Benedikt scarcely had a second to argue back. Marshall was already hurrying off.
~
Inside the factory, Juliette trailed her hands along the dark walls, her eyes wide. The machines looked strange in the moonlight, but stranger while sitting so idle. She was used to seeing rows and rows of workers in the daytime, trailing after her father as he ran inspections on the work of their trade partners. It might have been the wine in her system, but everything seemed to sway: sitting so inactive in movement that her eyes were imagining movement.
“Pst.”
Juliette almost jumped out of her skin.
“Christ,” she muttered, whirling around with a hand on her heart. Marshall slunk out from the shadows, both his hands in his pockets. “You gave me a fright.”
“Me? Frightening?” Marshall picked up a strange object on the table, inspected it for several seconds, then set it back down. “I am the least frightening person on the planet.”
“Yes, well, when it’s so dark, even a cuddly teddy bear would be terrifying.” Juliette felt around her dress. She thought she had tucked her lighter in here somewhere. There were little pockets sewn around the sleeves and armholes that she kept all her weapons, though if anyone asked, she would say she had the ability to materialize them out of thin air.
“Do you scream often at teddy bears?”
“Only when they sneak up on me.”
“I don’t see you screaming at Roma.”
“He gets a special pass. He’s only a teddy bear on the inside.”
Marshall snorted. He leaned down, trying to read the paper taped down to the table. At last, Juliette found her lighter—it was actually in her sock—and she brought it close, thumbing down the sparkwheel for a flame.
“Do not touch—for demolishing,” Marshall read under the new light. “Are the Scarlets going to build something new here?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Juliette replied. “My father doesn’t include me in his business meetings yet.”
“Hmm.” The shadows of the factory danced. Juliette thought she saw someone darting in her periphery, and she whirled around, but it was only Marshall’s shadow. Unfortunately, she had scared Marshall with her movement, and he bumped into her, asking, “What? What is it?”
The lighter flew out of her hands, landing on the paper.
“Nothing, nothing!” Juliette assured. “I was seeing things.”
But Marshall wasn’t convinced. He swiveled around. Peered hard into a corner. “Was it ghosts? I know this city has ghosts. All that death creates so many ghosts.”
Juliette tried to look where he was looking. She couldn’t see anything except the dark.
“There is no such thing as ghosts.”
“Just last week, I felt something walk by me and then there was no one when I looked. I swear to you, if it wasn’t ghosts then I—” Marshall stopped suddenly, turning around to look at the table. “Uh… is that supposed to happen?”
Juliette whirled around too. The whole table was on fire. “Oh, God.”
With a sudden pop, the fire sprung up and licked up to the walls. There had to be something sprayed inside the factory already to prepare for demolition, or else the flames would not be traveling with such intensive speed.
“Marshall,” Juliette said simply.
“Yes?”
She looked at him. “When the Montagovs ask, we blame the factory and say we have no idea what happened. Run!”
~
Benedikt and Roma kept watch in relative silence. Benedikt’s head was spinning, and his cousin looked like his head was doing the same if his swaying was any indication. Roma was humming softly under his breath, toeing the grass that grew around the abandoned factory.
Then, there was a sudden sound from inside, and the first tendrils of flames blew out from the topmost windows.
“Roma,” Benedikt said plainly. “I’m willing to bet my life savings that Juliette Cai just committed arson.”
Roma tilted his head up, his jaw dropping agape. At first, he could only stare at the growing fire, eating up the roof beams. Then, he said: “To be fair, it could have been Marshall.”
Benedikt threw his arms into the air. “Who looks more like the arson type, Juliette or Marshall?”
“Is that a trick question?”
“The answer was Juliette!”
Benedikt pinched the bridge of his nose. He was rapidly growing concerned, but before he could suggest they go in to search for the two, Juliette and Marshall ran out from the factory—laughing. The factory was burning down, and they were laughing, grasping at each other and spinning in circles right in front of the factory. They looked a sight: seconds away from collapsing atop of each other in utter delirium.
Benedikt turned to Roma. “Your girlfriend is a maniac.”
Roma was struggling to hold back his laugh watching her with Marshall. “I think she’s magnificent.”
Marshall stumbled, and Juliette squealed, reaching out to grab his arm before he could trip and land flat on his face. Benedikt almost—almost—let a smile slip. Before Roma could sight it and tease him for enjoying himself after all, he cleared his throat.
“What happened?” he bellowed.
“Faulty factory!” Marshall called back.
Benedikt shook his head, turning on his heel. They needed to get out of here before someone reported the fire.
“Come on!” he called back to the three. “Let’s go before the Municipal Police arrive.”
Upon Benedikt’s summons, Marshall left Juliette’s side and hurried to catch up. He slowed to a stroll once he was beside Benedikt, but Benedikt could feel Marshall watching him.
“What?” Benedikt asked. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure his cousin was following too. Thankfully he was, though it was mostly Juliette hauling him along, their hands clasped together and swinging while Roma kept looking at the fire.
“I think you enjoyed yourself,” Marshall replied smugly. “After all that complaining about sneaking into Scarlet territory.”
Benedikt reached out and rapped his knuckles on Marshall’s skull. With a shriek, Marshall darted ahead.
“You want me to enjoy myself?” Benedikt shouted after him, breaking into a run too. “Come back then! Let me throttle you!”
FIN.
#these violent delights#romajuliette#benediktmarshall#how am i out here using my own book tags this feels weird FKJDHSDKJFH#should i tag my own name too#chloe gong#now i've gone and done it#bookblr#yabooks
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Item: Doubt
Pairing: Alcina Dimitrescu x Gender Neutral! Reader
Warnings: Pouty, Angry Alcina. Vanity being thrown.
Co-Writer/Editor: @lissett108
A/N: This took a long time, but here you go! I hope you enjoy!
Your hair stood on end, a shiver raced down your spine and a lump came into your throat- you didn’t know what you did. She had never been angry enough to throw things, let alone throw those things at you. Now, you sat in one of the many hidden passages of the castle, your need to hide from Alcina great in your instincts.
A few hours earlier, you were on your way to go see her, the book you were reading in the library long finished.
Your hand reaches to push open the door, your other hand holds the next book you wish to read with Alcina. “Cina, I found another book I want to read with you, maybe we can start tonight?”
A yell escapes your girlfriend as she throws her vanity at you, her eyes red rather than their normal gold. You jump back and fall, the book in your hand landing in front of you. Tears begin to gather in your eyes and your body shakes. Your breathing begins to shake as well, was she throwing the vanity at you? What did you do and why was she trying to hurt you for it?
You didn’t try to ask her, you couldn’t. Your legs had a mind of their own at this point and they decided it’s time to get away from the threat that your girlfriend posed to your life: if she even was your girlfriend anymore. You didn’t know.
You hear Alcina cry your name out behind you, but you continue to run. She said she would never hurt you and yet doubt starts to creep in. Perhaps she didn’t mean what she said, maybe she just wanted your trust.
Heavy footsteps sound out from behind you and whimpers fall from your lips. She was getting closer by the second. Your passage was just up ahead, A few more steps come on [Name]!
“[Name], please! I beg you, let me explain!” You shake your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. Your hands tremble with the force of a thousand thunderstorms as you touch the wall. Hells fury knew no limits compared to your girlfriend. Regardless if she loved you, the fury was no limit to what you were just exposed to. Yet, as fearful as you were, doubt crept in like the uninvited. How could something like this be after all this time? Where were your instincts, mind, and heart in the matter? You love her, but how blind are you to her vampiric nature? Eventually, your hand grazes the right place, a wall opens and soon it was you and the darkness of doubt. Maybe it was bad timing, maybe it was the book, or maybe just you? Her strength and ferocity was something you had yet to witness but not in this form. You always thought she would protect you, not scare you- maybe it was you. Something had trailed you away from the entrances and soon you were left with only an empty room and your thoughts. Alcina’s voice had faded out to soft whimpers and low whispers of anxiety. She was somewhat close yet somewhat far. Is this what you had forgotten? The fear of becoming replaced and forgotten had crept around like a coiling snake- yet doubt was the only poison your body felt. The fear of not being enough and her deciding to off you herself. When did you become so fragile?
Hours pass, your tears long gone and your fatigue growing by the minute. You have no clue what time it is, but you’re sure it's night by now. A yawn escapes your lips and you lean your head back against the wall behind you. You stretch your legs and move to stand but a creak stops you. You look to your left and jump, pushing yourself into the corner furthest from her. Alcina stands before you, her hands held up. “[Name], please listen to me. I didn’t know you were there and I wasn’t throwing my vanity at you. I had just gotten off the phone with Mother Miranda. She still wants to go through with the ceremony, even after everything that Winters boy has done. I let my anger get the best of me. Please, I beg that you believe me, I would never hurt you.”
For a moment the feeling was fleeting, just like your doubt, but before you was the woman you loved, begging for forgiveness. “Cina.” your voice cracks with sudden worry and fear. “You- I.. Did I do something? Something that already had you angry at me?”
“No! No my love you could never! He.. he’s still running amok in the castle and Mother Miranda is more concerned with the ceremony than the threat he poses to all of us, especially you. I thought she would care, but I was wrong. She doesn’t care about anything besides her pleasure. I’m so sorry that you thought I was mad at you.” Alcina pauses and moves her hand to her mouth, tears begin to run down her face. Her body begins to shake as she sobs. “Please forgive me.. please don’t leave me.”
As your eyes scan her face for any traces of lying, your hands clench the fabric of your dress, and you whimper. “How do I know you won’t hurt me in the future? How do I know I won’t be thrown to the side and forgotten like some worthless doll?” Alcina looks up at you and moves to cup your face, but you pull back with a flinch. “Alcina Diane, why should I trust you?” The cold air had bled through the walls so secretly that it felt like someone was going to fall off and never return, the rift forming between you and your lover growing by the second.
“Tell me why.” You ask again, but more directly. A look of sadness washes over the face you used to love to kiss so much. Right now, you couldn’t fathom the idea of placing your lips on hers, your doubts and worries too fresh to allow it. Alcina lets go of the breath she was holding in her throat. “I’ll start from the beginning.”
The look on her face was that of pain, she felt like her world was shattering. How could I forget that humans were so fragile in both mind and body? Alcina asks herself. Her lover hadn’t known of her ferocity or how intense she could be but now was the time for reassurance and sincerity.
“I saved you from being attacked by a Lycan before I knew you or even before you knew of me, I rushed to you.” She responds honestly and gets as close to her lover’s height as possible. She doesn’t reach out to her love, but she leaves her gloved hand out.
“I refused and fought mother Miranda to keep you alive and in my castle because…” she cuts out. Slowly but surely, she composes herself.
“I love you and I will protect even from myself if I must.” She says, holding her hand out to her lover as reassurance. With a small amount of force, her lover’s hand grips her own but was shaking.
“I’m afraid because I’m new to this, new to you. Alcina please let me know of you fully.” Slightly taken aback Alcina gently lets herself touch heads with her lover’s to show a new form of intimacy.
“Ask me anything, anything about myself. There may be things I’m not completely ready to talk about, but if there is I’ll let you know eventually. I’ve known you for nearly a year, but there are still things I’m working up to tell you, just as you have things you’re working up to tell me as well.”
You nod and place your hand on her shoulder, “That’s fair. Just let me know about your personality. How you tick, what makes you mad, sad. I want to be able to help and I can’t unless you let me. I now know that Mother Miranda tends to piss you off, so maybe I can help. I know you like cuddling, maybe we can cuddle after a phone call with her? Maybe something more if needed.”
A small chuckle escapes your lover's lips and she leans down, placing her lips on your forehead. “Yes, that’s completely true. I do admire and look up to her, but she doesn’t care as much as I thought she did. She doesn’t care that Winters poses a threat to all of us, yes that includes you.” Hands run up your back and pull you closer to Alcina’s body, her face nuzzling into your neck. “When the girls make messes with their prey, I tend to get irritated. Especially when they let their prey escape and run around the castle. That not only poses a threat to our business but to you as well. I don’t want to take a chance on you getting hurt, I know it’s selfish but I can’t lose you.” You place your hands on her cheeks and pull her down to face you. “You’re not going to lose me. Honestly, I thought you wanted me gone, you threw the vanity and I thought that was your way of telling me to leave.”
Alcina shakes her head quickly and places her gloved hands on your cheeks. “Never my love! I would never want you gone, floarea mea mica. You mean the world to me. Before I met you, I was indeed content, I was used to being alone romantically and focusing on my daughters and Mother Miranda. Then you came in and stole my love, stole my daughter's love. We all love you and couldn’t imagine life without you Draga mea. You’re our little flower. I’ll spend the rest of eternity making sure you know that I love you. Making sure you know I’ll want you forever.”
You can't hold back the whimper in your throat at Alcina's words. She didn't want you gone, you meant the world to her. A smile crosses your face and you pull Alcina close to you. “I'll still be wary, I'm not used to seeing you that angry, let alone angry enough to throw things. It scared me. Alcina nods and pulls you into her lap. “I completely understand lubirea mea, It will take time and I can deal with it, I can wait. I want you to know that you can trust me and know that I would never harm you. I can't fathom the thought.”
Gentle kisses are placed across your face, large hands set on the small of your back. “What else can I do to assure you Draga mea? Îmbrățișări? Sărutări? Cină?” You giggle at the change in her language and pull her down so her lips meet yours. With the little Romanian you know, you speak,
“Tinandu-ma, Alcina, va face.”
#alcina dimitrescu x reader#Lady Dimitrescu#lady dimitrescu x reader#lady Alcina#lady alcina dimitrescu#Resident Evil: Village#resident evil 8#TALL LADY
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〖 her best friend ❣ zendaya 〗
「 zendaya x gender-neutral!reader 」 ┅ 「 2.7k words 」
: a.n : back at it again with the unsolicited fics :)) i hope you guys like it 👉🏼👈🏼
⤷ : prompt : separated forcefully or for reasons you can’t control, run into each other again years later on accident.
“Do you think they’ll ever stop making headlines calling us ‘very good friends’?” You halfheartedly laughed at yet another Instagram post by some magazine that showed you and Zendaya out and about LA. “Like, the minute you hang out with any guy they’re like, ‘Oh! Date alert!’ But I’m just your ‘best friend’” You were ranting now, unable to hide the annoyance you felt.
“Why does it matter what they say?” Zendaya quizzed, her hands playing with the waist string of your sweats. She looked up at you from her slumped down position on the sofa, her faint frown making you sigh.
“Because... don’t you feel is a bit homophobic?” You wondered, placing your phone face down on top of your stomach to give her your full attention. The brunette just shrugged nonchalantly and you let out another sigh picking your phone again to close the app, “I’m gonna head out.” It was best to just leave then, you didn’t want to get in a stupid argument with her not before you were set to leave for New York the very next morning. You began to incorporate but Zendaya’s hands gripped your thighs keeping them draped over hers.
“Y/n, come on.” She said, gorgeous hazel eyes pleading at you. What exactly? You had no idea but for a second, you were about to give in however a loud ding coming from your phone stopped you. Your eyes scanned the screen and the reminder that had popped up read ‘PACK ! 4 ! N Y C !’, you sent her an apologetic glance before getting off the sofa, gathering your stuff and petting Noon goodbye.
Zendaya had stood up from the sofa too, watching your every move intently, probably trying to figure out if you were upset with her. The truth was, you didn’t know if you were upset with her or with the media, it was possible that both had a little part in your now sour mood. “See you next week, best friend. Love you.” You joked before swinging the front door open and leaving. The week was going to feel like a month, you knew, but the hope that making that simple joke followed by the declaration would ease things up was strong.
But what did hopefulness ever bring if not disappointment and heartache?
Seeing medium-quality paparazzi pictures of your girlfriend as soon as you landed from a five-hour flight wasn’t exactly the way you wanted to be welcomed to New York. You sat quietly in the back of an Uber trying not to cry as your eyes stared at the images on your phone. A series of pictures of Zendaya and Tom leaving her house, —they must had been taken that morning while you were on your way to the airport— the further you scrolled down the Twitter trends the more you felt like throwing up. Them in his car. Tom’s hand reaching for Zendaya’s jaw. Both leaning in. Kissing. Laughing.
It felt like a punch to the face, it was the worst feeling you had ever endured and the people that caused it were the last you would’ve thought could ever dare to hurt you. Your trembling hands fumbled with the settings on your account, privating it and blocking her and Tom, doing the same with Instagram followed by their numbers on your phone. It felt like doing a cleansing, the pressure in your chest easing only minimally when you locked your phone and looked out into the running city. You wanted to scream and cry, break stuff, throw your phone away and not show to work, you just wanted to go hide in your Airbnb for the rest of the week and pretend you and Zendaya never happened.
The reality was that you two had happened and it was far too hard to pretend it didn’t, your heart ached both physically and metaphorically and you hated every second of it. For that week you spent in New York no one shut up about the photos, every person you worked with had that hot, brand new ‘goss’ about the pair that had hurt you so badly.
You sat in the quiet living room of the apartment you had been living in whilst in the big city, laptop sitting in front of you as you cancelled your flight back to LA, changing the tab to the Airbnb’s one to pay for a few more days. You had been holding yourself together the whole time you were there, work keeping you busy and sleeping pills doing their magic at the end of the day but it could only go so far. Glassy, stinging eyes stared blankly at the empty inbox of your email, the cursed images projecting over the blank space and you just weren’t strong enough anymore, you couldn’t, so you cried and choked and screamed until your throat and eyes were sore; until your whole body was drained of every bit of energy.
Little by little you were sweeping your life clean of her, clearing out your phone’s camera roll, changing your number. Deleting social media was a big no for your job so filtering everything and anything that had to do with them was the only option, that and spending little to no time online. You had stopped to think one night of the what-ifs of the situation, you were aware that Zendaya’s publicist wasn’t so happy about you and her dating publically and Tom’s was obsessed with boosting the Spider-man movies at all cost, still, giving you a heads up about it would had been the right thing to do.
For a year and a half, you made yourself busy, going back and forth wasn’t something you enjoyed but it worked to avoid unwanted visits and accidental encounters. Enough time had passed, you thought as you stopped booking in so many clients across the country and settled back in your LA home. “You know what? I could go for a thick, sugary milkshake, right now.” Naomi told you as you put down your half-empty box of fried noodles on the coffee table.
“Are you serious?” You asked incredulous receiving an enthusiastic nod from your friend. “Naomi, we just had Chinese and you wanna wash it down with a milkshake?” She rolled her eyes at you when you pointed it out.
“Fine, what about Bubble U? Bubble tea is Chinese isn’t it?” She offered, her question prompting you to send her an unamused glare. “Yep, Bubble U it is, then!” Naomi jumped up, going straight to the door. Reluctantly you got up from the floor, groaning all the way to the door where you got ready to go out, “Come on! It’ll be fun!” She chirped while she pulled you out of the house. You hated to admit it but you had completely modified your life after the heartbreak, once you settled back home you barely left it, you didn’t attend parties unless it was for work or go out with your friends unless it was at any of their houses. You didn’t walk around the city that often anymore in fear of bumping into her.
“I miss this.” You sighed as you walked down Chinatown with your friend, the coldness of your drink pleasant against the palm of your hand. “Just walking around town.” You continued taking a sip of the milk tea.
“I still don’t get why you had to stop going out with us.” Naomi said inciting you to turn to look at her, “I mean, I know why it’s just… you didn’t have to stop.” She rephrased it giving you an apologetic glance. You knew how much your friends hated the idea of you not being able to be you after the whole thing with Zendaya and Tom happened but it was your way of coping with it and even though they didn’t agree with it, they supported you.
“Well, I’m outside now, aren’t I?” You nudged her side with your elbow making her giggle as she nudged you back. “Maybe this is me getting back to my old self.” Hope laced your every word as you looked around the busy street. The way the golden light of the setting sun washed over the buildings made the outing worth the risk.
LA was the second-largest city in the United States, with a population of nearly four million that one could think the chances of crossing paths with a lover-turned-stranger was one in millions, yet, there you were rooted to the pavement as your wide eyes stared at the tall and thin figure coming out of one of the many restaurants that dotted the street. “Come on, let’s go back.” Naomi said, placing her hand on the crook of your elbow ready to pull you out of there but something inside your chest told you to keep moving forward.
So you did, you started walking again letting your friend’s hand slip away from you. She was quick to follow, whisper-shouting at you that whatever you were doing probably wasn’t the best idea. The closer you got to her the more nervous you felt, it’s been over a year since you last saw her and god, was she even more beautiful than before; long legs clagged in camel coloured trousers, feet sporting her beloved black converse. Her top was white, a little see-through and you cursed at how much it still drove you absolutely crazy in the most irritating sense.
Curls tucked into an elastic on top of her head in a carefree and relaxed way, a few stubborn strands hanging out framing her face and gracing her neck. She was laughing loudly at something Darnell said, that laugh you had forced yourself to forget but the second it hit your ears, you realised how badly you had missed it. Then everything stopped, Naomi’s panicked telling off, Darnell’s chatting and Zendaya’s laughing. It all had stopped but the rambling around the four of you.
You stood in front of Darnell while Naomi stood in front of Zendaya, your friend’s usually amicable attitude disrupted by the scowl on her face as she glared Zendaya’s way only the brunette’s pupils were set on you with no apparent intention of averting. “It’s you,” She breathed out, hope barely perceivable in her tone. You only hummed at the observation, your eyes moving from hers down to her hands that were gripping the long lanyard that held her phone around her neck. Her nerves were evident then, the intensity with which she clutched it seemed to be draining the blood flow from her fingers. “I— How—” Zendaya tried to speak but failed, letting out a shaky breath. “How have you been?”
“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Naomi protested, you understood where your friend was coming from but you also needed that, you needed to speak to Zendaya just one more time to be able to finally let everything go. You needed her to confirm your theory just so you could move on and Darnell seemed to be on the same page as you for he stepped in between you and Naomi, throwing his arm around her shoulders to guide her away from you two. You heard her object some more but ultimately she complied and walked away.
“I’ve been fine. You?” You eventually spoke after short but agonising seconds of silence.
“I don’t know. There are good days among the terrible ones, so... fine, I guess?” She shrugged a shoulder. With a nod of your head, you looked past her over her shoulder to see a man pointing a camera at you, you were about to warn her when she began speaking again. “Y/n, I’m so sorry about—” Zendaya started but you shook your head no making her stop, you realised then that you did want to talk to her but not on the street in front of that many people and certainly not when there were paparazzi nearby.
“Heard the movie did well.” Your tongue betrayed your brain. Zendaya tried to speak once more but you cut her again. “I’m glad it did. Made it all worth it, didn’t it?” You faked a small smile nearly choking on the words, the anxious lump in your throat threatening to cut your airflow.
“No, It didn’t.” Zendaya denied taking a step closer to you forcing you to hold your breath with the sudden move. “I was a total asshole to you before you left, then Marla wanted me and Tom to do that for a while and I don’t even know why I did it.” She ranted in one breath.
“I upset you.” The statement earned you a furious head shake from the tall girl. “I did. I kept bugging you about the articles,” You carried on, inconspicuously your eyes started to line with tears. The more you talked the more you realised that maybe, just maybe there was a bit of blame in you too, however, that didn’t mean Zendaya was absolved from any. “You never said a thing to me about the stunt.”
“I felt like I didn’t need to, I wasn’t gonna do it.”
“But you did. The morning I left LA.” You mumbled, trying to hide from the second man with a camera that had appeared closer than the first.
“Fuck, I know it was a shitty thing to do and I’m sorry,” She took another small step forward.
“You always told me kissing in public wasn’t your thing.” You exposed, tears irrevocably breaking the surface tension and cascading down your cheeks. Flicking your gaze up at her you saw nothing but hurt and regret written all over her gorgeous face and your heart squeezed at the sight. She had never spoken about it and neither had you asked, you just felt it in your heart that she was scared of how the media would treat you both if they ever found out you were dating, you knew the times had changed but there were still closed-minded people that ran gossip magazines and could make your lives a living hell the moment they caught you holding hands in public or worst, kissing.
The murmuring around you increased, reminding you that you were in a very public place crying in front of your secret ex-girlfriend. “Fuck that.” Zendaya grumbled. One moment she was a small step away from you and the next her hands were cupping your face and her lips were softly pressed against yours. The action took your breath away instantly, still, you found yourself powerless against the familiar taste and feel of her and allowed her to kiss you as long as she wanted to in front of how many people she wanted to. There were yelps and gasps all around the two of you and you started to regain conscience and pulled away.
Wide, watery eyes staring up at the girl mere inches away from your face. “Th-there’s pap—”
“I don’t care.” She whispered before she captured your lips once more, this time deeper and twice as intensely as the first time. Your hands scurried to her waist, bringing her flush to your body as you kissed her back gladly, desperately wanting her lips to make the past year bleep out of your core memories.
The night went by slowly as if the universe was granting you more time to spend in the arms of the girl you loved. She never once let a second of silence go by you, filling it with a whispered apology and a kiss. You talked about everything the time you spent apart brought to both of you, she told you about firing her publicist right after the pictures came out, about how she understood why you had cut her off without any explanation and how bad both her and Tom felt with the whole thing.
Articles flooded the internet that very night as well as the next morning, however, neither of you knew of them right away for any device that could be hooked to a WiFi signal was rightfully turned off while you basked in the presence of each other under the covers of Zendaya’s bed.
“Spider-man Star Zendaya shares intense kiss with BFF, Celeb Stylist y/n l/n in the middle of Chinatown! Swipe to see the pictures!”
It might be 2021 but some things refused to change.
【 thank you so much for reading! ♡ please, consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought of this ♡ kit xx 】
#zendaya x reader#zendaya x you#zendaya imagine#zendaya fanfic#wlw fanfic#softfics#angst to fluff#gender neutral reader
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supercluster
this is my entry for @hollandsrecs 'toms birthday fanfic fest' event - go check it out!!! I know its a early but im v bored so have it now. also im acc kinda really proud of this one, any feedback would be v appreciated 🤍
the prompt was: 'you and tom are best friends and you tell him that you love him on his birthday'
summary: its toms birthday but he has a few things to get off his chest and into the night sky, y/n joins in with a bit of a revelation too
best friends -> lovers
warnings: mentions of alcohol, bit angsty but promise ends all fluffy and a shit tonne of dialogue
wc: 3.5k ishhh
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Everything got a little too wild and stuffy in the living area, Haz and Harry screaming sweet caroline, whilst Greg (Tom’s stunt man) was pouring *another* round of shots. The sweatiness and clamminess of the room meant Y/n took a moment to escape, sliding out the double doors, and closing them softly behind her to ensure no one would notice her little escape. Something about the midnight air, the slightly dewy smell of the neighbouring fields, felt like it was refreshing Y/n from the inside out. When she turned around, back facing the fancy rented house, she was slightly shocked by Tom standing in the garden. It was his birthday party after all. In all honesty, Y/n felt a bit guilty she hadn’t noticed he wasn’t in the thick of it with his brothers and castmates.
His silhouette was set against the clear night sky, the stars extra prominent this evening and the moon casting a soft glow off the left side of his face, exaggerating the natural contours of his jawline and cheekbones. Clearly, he was enraptured by the sky, staring up at it with a thoughtful look on his face.
And Y/n recognised that look instantly; she knew what he was doing.
In fact, he had taught her to do precisely the same thing. As kids, the Hollands, Y/n’s family and another two families from the local area all went camping together. It was an annual event, ‘the Kingston collective camping adventure’ as Dom had named it. Y/n couldn’t remember a year when they hadn’t gone actually - it was that much of a tradition.
One year, though, when she and Tom were about 9, her mothers’ due date coincided with the camping dates. So, sensibly, the decision had been made that Y/n and her brother would just be looked after by the Hollands - whilst her mum and dad were safely tucked up in bed at home, awaiting the arrival of her littlest brother.
Y/n, her brother Alex, and Tom were all sharing a tent, and it must’ve been at least midnight that Tom was awoken by shuffling and zipping up of the tent. He’d realised she was gone through sleepy eyes and, without a second thought, went to go find her. Sure enough, she wasn’t far away, not even 50 metres from the tent, crouched on the grass. Immediately Tom’s presence had been noticed, making Y/m quickly snivel and wipe her face.
“Are you upset?”
“Go away Tom.” The comment didn’t do a lot, though; instead, 9-year-old Tom had planted himself down next to her - his pyjamas getting wet on the moist grass floor.
“Are you missing Auntie Sarah and Uncle Mike?” In the same way that Y/n called Nikki and Dom auntie and uncle, the Holland boys mirrored the nicknames for her parents. Y/n replied with a long sigh before hiccuping, failing to control the stream of tears. Yes, he was right - this was her first night away from her parents- but she wasn't about to spill her heart out to the 'stupid boy' who had stolen one of her marshmallows that evening. Tom’s little brown eyes swelled, looking slightly terrified and out of his depth, whilst with all his 9 years of wisdom, trying to come up with an answer.
“Do you want to play football to forget about it?”
Unsurprisingly Y/n shook her head violently. Tom cursed inwardly at himself for saying the wrong thing, apparently football wasn't the answer to everything. The two children went back to silence until Tom had the metaphorical light bulb moment. “My mum told me something for when I got to sleepovers? Look!” He grabbed Y/n’s little hand, extending it upwards towards the night sky.
“No matter where you are, you’re all looking at the same stars too, right?”
Tom jumped a little before looking over his shoulder and recognising Y/n with the softest smile that grew across his face. Y/n slowly walked to his side, arms crossed over her chest to try and keep the cold at bay, joining Tom in staring up at the starry expanse.
“How do you always know?” Tom spoke in a breathy chuckle, shaking his head slightly. It was true, she did always know - but his question was somewhat irrelevant. They'd spent most their childhood together, they were as easy to read as a children’s book to each other.
“Missing home?”
“Sort of, I got my own slice of home with the boys and-and you but… pads, mum dad yeh, feel like on your birthday your always supposed to see your family.”
Although Harry, Harrison, Sam and Y/n had managed to fly out to surprise Tom on his birthday- prior commitments meant his parents and youngest brother hadn’t been able to make it. They four arrived yesterday, greeted by a very shocked and pretty emotional Tom - who had clearly been missing the sense of home somewhat. He’d been away shooting a film, then straight away launching into press for the next spiderman movie. It had been a long while since he’d been in London - half a year in fact.
This time too, he’d been away without a single family member or friend - that was another truth he’d learnt about growing up. Your friends and family, they all get lives of their own. Tom used to be a trailblazer, the first to get a job, the one everyone was super proud of. They still were, of course, but didn’t dote on him in quite the same way - everyone had their own shit to deal with. It was yet another reason Tom wasn’t welcoming his birthday as much as he usually would.
“Your parents did always spoil you rotten.”
“They spoilt you worst and you’re not technically their kid.” Y/n rolled her eyes, even if it might slightly true - muttering a ‘touche’ at the brown-haired boy next to her. Their families had always been close; naturally the adults seemed to gravitate more to the kids that weren’t their own. The ones who you could ‘give back’ at the end of the day. It just so happened Nikki and Dom had always loved having Y/n around, maybe a bit more than anyone else.
“Have you had a good birthday then? You should be in there with Greg pouring that shitty vodka down your throat.” Y/n questioned, whilst shrugging back toward the house, the dull thump of Jacob's playlist just audible. Still, both stared upwards, standing close enough that their upper arms were both pressed up against each other. She expected a jovial answer, but even from his tone, it was evident there was something up. He sounded…weary?
“I’m bloody glad you all came...don’t get me wrong, I love Z and Jacob and everyone but….”
“Shitty week?”
“Shitty birthday week of promo and press.” Tom scathed, and Y/n nodded. Even if she couldn’t understand what was so bad about press, she knew that Tom hated it passionately. And in the same way, he loved all his castmates dearly, but they hadn’t known him his whole life. They didn’t understand why he did every little thing; their values lay just that bit apart. It just wasn’t the same as being surrounded with his family - you and Harrison adopted Hollands too.
“I just feel like I’ve spent all week trapped in a room answering the most stupid, irrelevant and inconsequential questions... Everything’s just so surface level and fake and, and I-“He cut himself off, for the first time meeting Y/n’s eyes. In all honesty, Tom got a bit caught up in the stars reflecting off her piercing y/e/c eyes before changing tack.
“Will you do me a favour?”
This wasn’t spoken with the normal Tom tone. It wasn’t joking or jovial; it wasn’t an ‘off the tongue’ thing. This was spoken with such seriousness and gravitas coming from his deep voice that Y/n replied equally truthfully.
“Always T, you know that.”
“Will you please ask me a personal and serious and deep question?”
She got where he was coming from too.
Clearly, even though the evening was supposed to be a light piss up in celebration, it had instead unearthed some darker thoughts that Tom had been harbouring away. Perhaps he never even realised he needed such seriousness, or perhaps with his castmates he hadn’t felt comfortable exposing himself like that. Either way, Y/n was going to respect him now. It was technically his birthday, too; the clocks had already struck 12 - it was now his day.
It wasn’t tricky to think of one; she’d often wondered the same question of him - never with the opportunity to ask. The question popped into her head again, almost as soon as Tom asked for one.
“Okay…. What’s your deepest regret that makes you feel guilty for feeling because in the grand scheme of things, it minor? Like such a 'first world problem'." What do you regret that’s just completely selfish?”
Tom immediately stiffened, his jaw tensing as he worked through his thoughts in his head. Scared she’d pushed it too far, Y/n averted her gaze back to the sky, chewing her bottom lip slightly. It took a moment, but then she saw Tom turn towards her, in the peripheries of her vision. With a tightly closed-lip smirk on his face he joked “If your gonna ask questions like that, we better sit down.”
And so they did, both sitting crossed legged on the ground, knees brushing against each other. Just on the grass lawn, almost mirroring themselves all those years ago as kids in that camping site. Y/n wondered if she should offer to play football instead - to cheer him up.
“Missing out. I miss out months at a time. Miss out on seeing mum and dad, miss out on the pub quizzes with the boys, miss out seeing you… I mean, I didn’t even know you had a new job until you mentioned it this morning. I miss out on time with nana Tess and all my grandparents, and that’s scary cos… well, every time I go, it could be the last time… I don’t know, I just… I get so much, get to travel, to see the world, but… sometimes it feels like I’m sacrificing the foundations. And without the foundations….”
“The walls come crumbling down.” Y/n finished off his sentence quietly, barely whispering the words - but from Tom’s nod of agreement, it seemed like she’d hit the nail on the head. There was silence for a beat till Y/n whispered to him.
“Well, happy birthday to you” Trying to bring the mood up a little, she bumped his shoulder, and Tom chuckled breathily.
“Seriously! This is helping me out. I-I just need to get everything out and start my 25th year fresh.”
“Hey, if that’s all you want, I’m getting a refund on my present- we can just get deep and interview each other.”
“I’m game, except I’m keeping the present too.”
“Just because it’s your birthday and I’m a bit tipsy, I’ll allow it.”
“Okay, well then, Y/n L/n”, He spoke formally, leaning in closer and making her giggle a little. “What’s your biggest regret?”
“Honestly?” Tom just repeated her in reply, but this time it was a statement.
"Honestly."
He really was going deep too. No holding back now. Y/n sucked on her cheek before replying. “Not travelling with you when we were 19… I was just so determined to get to uni and start grown-up life, but… well, grown-up life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I should’ve tried to stay a kid longer, messing about on your film sets and pretending it was work. I think I would’ve learnt more from seeing the world with you.”
“Well, I am very knowledgable.”
“Shut up, you drop out- who didn't know what a drag race was.” She wasn’t wrong, and whilst yes, he had dropped out to be a film star - he was still a dropout. (with exceptionally poor knowledge of RuPaul) He scowled, then leaning back on his hands, so he was half reclined on the grass as Y/n thought of her next question.
“Whats your biggest worry?”
“Easy.” He chuffed, making Y/n furrow her brows at him. Clearly, he’d already thought of this. “That I finally settle down with the love of my life, and then the fans or press or paps ruin it.”
It made sense; every time Tom had gone public with a relationship, it had ended in a minor car crash. Typically it was also the girl who got hurt; she was the ‘victim’ in everything. Though Y/n had seen first hand the effect it had had on Tom - he never made it out damage-free.
“You make it sound like you’ve already got this dream girl queued and waiting.”
“I wish”, Tom sighed, as Y/n took the opportunity to completely lie down on the grass, staring up at the dark abyss. She’d always loved the stars and had become a bit of a geek on them as they’d grown up too- and maybe it was all down to Tom on that camping trip. Following suit, Tom copied her, his head resting on his hands that were crossed behind his head, taking in the moment of pure peace as they lay on the grass.
“You see that bright one there?” Pointing up, Y/n shimmied closer to him so that he definitely saw the same thing as her. “It’s actually not one. Look closer.” Humming, Tom shifted a bit closer, so her shoulder slotted under the side of his body just the teeniest bit. It meant he could follow her direction and squinted up at the little patch of the sky.
“ 5…maybe 6? What is it?”
“The pliedes supercluster…. basically a big group of stars that all were born from the same place- the same stellar nursery.”
“But they’re moving now?” She hummed in confirmation to his question, briefly glancing at the way his eyes were fixed on the sky. For the first time he seemed genuinely interested in hearing her stories of the stars. It usually was an eye roll and ‘you’re so lame’.
“They’re called the sibling stars… like everything in life, as they get older they drift apart but…. but to us down here? They’ll always be associated together because they have a gravitational effect on each other. They’ll always have their thing tying them together. Like an invisible string.”
“Sounds like you’re being metaphorical.” Tom chuckled, expecting a taunt back but receiving nothing except a gentle agreement.
“Theres also actually 7. The last one people can only sometimes see… it’s a pulsing star, so comes and goes.”
“They do that?”
“Yeh, and no matter what… if you can see it or not, it’s always there. Always having an impact on its family.”
Biting his lower lip slightly, Tom repositioned his head slightly, Y/n’s words taking time to be fully absorbed. He was sure she was making parallels to him. Barely there, appearing and disappearing, but always a part of the family.
“You are being metaphorical.”
“Maybe.” She whispered shortly. “Metaphors depend on who’s listening and if they draw parallels to their own life. It’s subjective. You can’t tell anyone what is and isn’t metaphor…. it takes the beauty out of it.”
“Right, sure... But if you were…. me, harry, Sam, pads, you, Haz, Tuwaine? That the 7?” Y/n held back the little smile at his words. Tom wasn’t as ‘head in the clouds’ as she was- he was literal. Also, he was bloody stubborn when he wanted to be.
“I wasn’t being metaphorical T.” He knew she was lying. She knew that he knew. But it still helped him, made him feel a bit better. That he was always, in some way, having some effect... lives always intertwined with the people he cared about the most.
“Tell me another story about another star.”
Time for the rest of the night kind of got lost. The two young adults just lay on the grass, entirely in their own little world, using each others body heat to keep themselves warm through the early hours. Neither felt remotely tired, Y/n whispering her little stories of both the myths and science of the old stars, pointing out each planet. Meanwhile, Tom listened in awe, for once not taking the mick out of her incredibly geeky hobby. Instead, he found himself getting fascinated by all the little intricacies Y/n was so passionate about.
It was only when the stars began to fade, as orangey-red hue started to seep up from the horizon the either noticed the time. It was now the morning of the next day, the house long since had turned silent behind them - presumably, everyone finally passing out shit faced.
As the stars’ light was overtaken by the rising sun, Y/n ran out of stories; the two settled into silence - neither quite ready to go to bed yet.
“It’s still my turn,” Tom spoke into the sky before pivoting his head to look Y/n in the eye, seeing the confusion in her furrowed brows. “It’s my question to ask. My turn.”
“Aren’t you sick of my voice yet?” There was absolutely no reason that they were both whispering. It wasn’t like anyone was trying to listen or that they’d disturb anyone else my talking normally. But it was nicer that way. It felt calming... intimate even.
“One more. And then you get one more… and then we really should probably go to bed.” He didn’t want the night to end; he was immensely enjoying this weird grey time between being 25 and 26. But it was cold, Tom could tell Y/n had started to feel it a little more. To be fair, she was only in a floral day dress, not much in the way of warmth. With a hum of agreement, Y/n smiled lightly at him, urging his question.
“Whats the biggest secret you’ve kept from me?”
With a bit of a scoff, Y/n sighed and closed her eyes, trying to draw some strength she wasn’t sure she had. It wasn’t like she needed to wrack her brains to come up with it - she knew instantly. Almost painfully too.
“Uhm, honestly?” Now even more intrigued, Tom nodded, using his foot for nudge hers - encouraging her to speak. “Probably how much you mean to me.”
“Oh” He couldn’t help it; the sound just slipped out his mouth without checking with his brain first. That answer had just been so unexpected. He had honestly been thinking that it would be something about how ‘fame had changed him’. After hearing that, Y/n turned her head up the sky again, feeling like her cheeks were on fire with embarrassed heat. Tom knew he had fucked up.
“No, I… I didn’t mean- just just ask me too.” With a sigh, Y/n waved off his stumbled answer as he tried to cover himself.
“This is stup-“
“Ask me!” For the first time in 5 hours, Tom spoke at an normal volume - but it felt painfully loud, like a shout.
“What’s the biggest secret you kept from me?” Her tone was defeated, but nevertheless, he answered.
“How upset I was when you didn’t come when we were 19. I got why, but it was still annoying. Felt like you were picking uni friends over me-“ At this point on any other evening, Y/n would have interjected and argued. None of this situation was normal, though, so she chose to hear him out. “- I know it’s stupid, but…. I guess that’s how much you meant an-and still mean to me too.”
There was silence for a couple minutes, waiting whilst the sun started to peep over the horizon, the lone witness to an otherwise very private conversation. That was until Y/n barely spoke, more like mouthed 2 simple words.
“I lied.” The intensity of the way Tom stared at her made Y/n wish that the sun hadn’t been so bright, that they were back in the darkness that hid her face more. “Biggest lie I’ve told you … that I’m not in love with you.”
Y/n didn’t see because she couldn’t face looking at him, but Tom’s face erupted into the most prominent, toothiest smile. Whilst Tom was enjoying the moment of being absolutely ecstatic, Y/n was waiting for a response- feeling her world come crashing in. That she'd just destroyed one of the most important friendships in her life too.
But then he said the opposite of what she thought he would.
“I lied too.”
That had her attention, whipping her head toward him as Tom rolled onto his side on the lawn, balancing with his head resting on one hand. “I lied that I’ve not been completely under your spell since we were kids at that campsite, and you were homesick.”
Y/n’s heart was literally in her mouth, brain overwhelmed but one overriding thought oh so bloody clear.
She’d lost control of everything, arching up to mirror Tom. Using one hand, she reached out to cup Tom’s jaw, to which he instinctively leant toward - until their lips were mere centimetres apart, hot breath fanning over each other.
Y/n no control as she whispered those 3 words against his lips. No control at how immediately after he pressed his to hers; no control as Tom guided her to roll on top of him, knees either side of his torso as his strong arms wrapped around her back.
Once again, time was lost between the two, only pulling apart when their lungs burned for oxygen.
“For the record, I love you too.” Grinning from ear to ear, Tom used one hand to gently stroke his thumb across her cheek, switching his focus from her left to right eye - in wonder at how the early morning sun reflected from her y/e/c irises. He’d always thought she was beyond beautiful, but when she was this close to him, with the sun rising behind her in such a way - she looked damn ethereal.
“Happy birthday T.” Nodding in agreement, Tom chuckled before finding her lips once again, whispering against them.
“Yeh, happy damn birthday to me.”
~~~~let me know what you think ;) ~~~~~
tagging: @hallecarey1 @hollandfanficlove @crossyourpeter
#tom Holland#tom holland x reader#tom holland fluff#tom holland angst#tom holland x y/n#writing challenge#tbff21#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland imagine#tom holland oneshot#harry Holland
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Take One (M)
Pornstar!Yoongi x Fan Fiction Writer!Reader
Genre: Strangers To Lovers!AU, Smut, Fluff
WordCount: 24k
Warnings: Masturbation, Fingering, Big Dick!Yoongi, Slight Dom!Yoongi, Degradation (Slut, Cum Slut), Spanking, Sex Against A Wall, Unprotected Sex, Cream Pie, Phone Sex, Edging, Pussy Slapping, Daddy Kink, Hair Pulling, Cock Slapping, Cum Swallowing, Love Making, Marking, Body Worship, Cunnilingus, Face Fucking, Multiple Orgasms, Possessive!Yoongi, Forced Orgasm, Doggy Style, Impreg Kink
A/N: Again the biggest shout outs to my crew @ppersonna, @ladyartemesia, @xjoonchildx who are constantly rooting for this fic to come out. I love my ladies so much!!!!!!!
There are three things which Yoongi was certain of. One, he was a big star in his field of work. Two, he had a huge cock, one to rival many of the largest names in his industry. Three, he can only find pleasure these days in written word.
He has seen so many bodies in his career. So many different women and men that he cared very little for the human form. Now, written word where he could just simply envision a woman of his choosing doing what is described in twelve font Ariel Black ink. That is where he finds his pleasure.
He found himself after a long day on set, looking for mental relief. People make fun of his job, but it's incredibly taxing on one's spirit. He tried for years and years to be not only the best porn star in his field, but the most talked about. He succeeded after not too long, one utterly embarrassing title called 'Little Cat, Bowl of Milk' skyrocketed his success and had people coming back time and time again to his profile on all the major porn sites. He began to realize that success was eating at his bones. He so often found himself not being able to cum as he fucked his co-star half way to Sunday.
It wasn't about being the greatest anymore, or having the biggest cock in the industry. It was about actually being able to cum without the prop team having to strap a tube on the underside of his cock and pump out this incredibly realistic looking paste that actually looks like jizz. It was practically degrading. And yet, Yoongi only found himself orgasming through reading.
It was a random happenstance as he was scrolling online. Just looking at a few different blogs on Tumblr before finding a link in their biography stating 'Masterlist'. Finding himself intrigued he clicked on the link, the girl with the pen name Nevermore had countless series of books. She was great at writing, truly understanding her character's complexity and portraying it in such a way that had Yoongi constantly on the edge of his seat. But above all, the sex scenes she wrote were so erotic; so completely entrancing that he began to lose himself in her stories. He had never cum harder than before he read the words she so ardently wrote.
Jumping onto his couch, his feet find their place on the arm as his hand rests beneath his head. "I wonder what's up with Kyla and Bjorn today." He whispers to himself before sipping his beer. Every day of the week waits with bated breath to be Sunday. Nevermore publishes every Sunday at 8 o'clock and Yoongi never misses it. He will even stop a late filming just to read her new chapter.
Stopping by her blog fills him with a sense of renewal. He first checks her updated page before anything else. She seemed to have an almost poetic soul within her, as if her fingers poured out earnest sentences with cryptic and riddled meaning. It's her latest post that catches his attention, first and foremost, before he can even click on the book's masterlist. He sips his beer as he peruses the post.
Coming Tuesday - Take One.
Pornstar!Min Yoongi x Reader
Author's Note: I usually research heavily for smut to make it seem the most realistic as possible. I looked into porn to get a sense of what pornstars go through day to day and came across Min Yoongi. Eajsidicjeisoc HE'S UNBELIEVABLE! So the next book will be a fan fiction based on him. And believe me when I say I'M A FAN.
Beer goes flying out of his mouth. Sitting up quickly, his eyes widened at the text.
"EXCUSE ME?!" He yells loudly before putting his hand over his mouth.
A voraciously nervous giggle escapes him as his eyes flit to the popcorn ceiling. "Me? She's seen me?" He doesn't know whether to be astonished or incredibly flattered. He was a mere reader, one of the thousands that follow her blog and here he was being featured in one of her gorgeous stories. Would she write him like he is or turn him into a sex god? Someone completely void of feeling like Bjorn? Or someone absolutely brimming with possibility like Kyla? His bottom lip purchases between his teeth as he lets out a happy groan. I guess Tuesdays would be the days to look forward to now.
Sweat builds upon Yoongi’s lean frame as he snaps his hips into his co-star once more. His arm muscles shake as he holds himself above her thin frame, “You like that? Hmm? Like getting pounded by your sister’s husband? You’re such a fucking slut.” He recites his script before wrapping his hand around her neck. She whimpers out, botoxed lips parting for air as she keens loudly.
“Yes! Fuck! More, I’m such a little slut. I want you to fuck me so hard!” She whines and he can feel his energy slipping from him. This isn’t exciting. This doesn’t get him off. It was a trivial part of his job. He knows she’s enjoying it, the way she drools isn’t prompted. The way her eyes roll back every time the head of his cock meets her cervix folds isn’t scripted. He used to savor that. He used to adore fucking his co-stars stupid, making them forget their lines so he could take a break and edge his orgasm away before pile driving into them like a frenzied maniac. Now he just wishes she could hurry up and cum so he could get to the blog. It was Tuesday after all.
“Oh Christ.” He murmurs out as she cums on his cock for a third time. Her cum squirting onto his thighs as she screeches to the heavens. The camera was solely focused on her battered pussy. And so, with that knowledge he closes his eyes. Picturing, or trying anyway, how Bjorn took Kyla into the fish hut after their summer raid. How he laid her down on the bed of hay and let his wild freeness overcome him. The way he ran his fingers over her nipples deftly. Deftly, that was a word used in the books often that he found himself loving. He remembers reading in obscene vividity how tight Kyla was for Bjorn, signifying that she had not been with a lover since he went to raid England.
Yoongi finds himself gasping gently as he pictures the scene written just weeks ago by Nevermore’s beautiful hands. His cock was thickening just at the thought and he lets out a loud groan. Pleasure seeping into every nerve of his body as his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip. Picturing someone else beneath him, someone more supple to the touch. Someone who was simple and adoring being underneath him because they wanted to be.
Alas, he’s ripped from his impending orgasm as his co-star scrapes her ridiculously sharp nails over his arms. He lets out a defeated sigh before opening his eyes. Jaw going slack he waves in the prop team. It’s still disgusting to him, the feel of the tube beneath his cock twitch and pulse as the paste emits from below him. It smells like glue.
He gives a loud moan, something the director would say is beautiful as the paste lands on the folds of her pussy. He pulls away from her, ripping the tube out from beneath him as she giggles to the camera. Her index finger sneaks its way into her mouth and she gives a ginger bite to it before sighing happily. “Thanks Yidu.” He murmurs before grabbing a pair of boxers from his manager.
“What’s the matter, Yoongi? Can’t seem to get off?” Yidu calls to him as she sits up on her elbows.
“Not with you or with anyone.” He mumbles to himself before shoving open his dressing room door.
“What’s wrong with you?! Yidu is hot, man!” His manager, Hoseok says as he closes the door behind them. Yoongi rolls his eyes as he digs into his jacket before pulling out his phone.
“Hobi. I told you. It’s hard to get off anymore, it’s just so… so-”
“Trivial? Come on, Yoongi! You just had one of the hottest A list porn stars beneath you!” Hobi says before handing Yoongi his coffee as he sits down in the arm chair.
“Then you go fuck Yidu. Give her a good seeing too.” He mumbles as he unlocks his phone. Hoseok scoffs loudly before throwing himself down onto the loveseat.
“Yeah right! She’d never want to be with me after your eleven inch cock was deep in her kidneys.” Yoongi snorts at his comment before turning around to him.
“It’s eleven and a half inches. I wish you would get it right.” He jeers before sipping his coffee.
Hoseok didn’t leave him alone for the rest of the afternoon. So, he had to wait with bated breath to read the new book until he got home. Which he finds agreeable since he would want privacy anyway. He’s kind of nervous. Isn’t it odd to read a book about yourself? As flattering as it is?
What if the book painted him out to be this sex craved monster? He takes a deep breath before unlocking his phone. “Okay.” He whispers before crossing his legs and throwing them up on the couch.
There’s something magical about meeting the right someone. Captivating, even. The way irises flit between one another in a moment of glorious silence. The breath that is held within one’s chest as you stare longingly at the other person before you. Hands could shake from nerves, excitement- both, even. It had never happened for Min Yoongi. Until you.
Yoongi clears his throat before leaning deeper into the couch cushions. There it is. The master at work. Painting him to be a god among men. A small smirk finds its way on to his lips as he settles in for more.
It took a second to notice him. To see him in a sea of moving bodies. He was a gentle breeze in a vast desert. And, in that second you yearned to know him.
He was tall. Taller than you by all accounts. His hair was black and long, the gentle spring breeze blowing his bangs into his eyes as he leans against the hotel door waiting for his car.
Expensive. That’s a word that could describe him even in the darkest of nights. The way his leather jacket clung to him, highlighting his biceps. Even his sunglasses screamed exorbitant. With one foot pressed against the foggy glass of the door, you found yourself walking towards him without any care for yourself.
His jeans hung low, the crisp white t-shirt he adorned barely covering his pale skin underneath.
“Someone’s been watching ‘To Meet A Man’, hmm?” He quips as his thumb trails slowly over his bottom lip. He was already hooked. Seeing himself as the character and yet, completely setting himself outside of it as well. He was torn between the two and he feels as if he could go on this way forever.
Stopping in front of him, he tilts his head towards you before smirking. “Can I help you, little one?” His voice was like the sound of a harp. Sharp and melodic.
“You’re standing in front of the door.” You reply. Your index finger pointed at the foggy glass beneath his foot. He opens his mouth for a fraction of a second before nodding.
“Thought you recognized me.” He murmurs to himself, opening the door to let you into the hotel.
“I bet you’d like that.” You smile at him, black sundress rippling through the breeze before entering the hotel.
“Yes. I think I would like that.”
God, this was enthralling. His toes curl as he reads on. Loving the picturing being painted already. How is it that you made this Min Yoongi so incredibly bold and attractive? How is he not this attractive?
Yes, okay. He was hot. Undoubtedly. He knows that. But, he never flaunted it if he wasn’t on camera. This Min Yoongi was confident and sound. Surely he could cum on command without having to think of book characters to maybe do it.
Yoongi wishes he was like his book counterpart. He’s a fan of him.
Stepping on set, he takes in the scene before him. This is something his character in Take One would be into. Tying up his woman Y/N. Pleasing her through and through, making her beg for more just because he could.
Sipping his coffee he hums to himself as his hand runs over the silken sheets of the prop bed. “Wow. Big budget.” He jokes to Hoseok who snorts as a reply.
“Your co-star is here.” Hoseok whispers before nodding across the set. Yoongi takes off his leather jacket before looking her over and he internally groans. Nothing like how he pictures Y/N at all in the book.
“Fine.” He mutters out as he hands his leather jacket to Hoseok.
“When did you start wearing leather?” His long time friend asks as he sniffs the jacket. Yoongi shoos him away before running his fingers through his hair. “Mind your business, Jung!” He snaps before taking off his sunglasses.
He’s worked with this porn star before. She was hot, obviously. The kind of hot that screams high maintenance. And she always brought her dog to set. Which was odd. Also, annoying. Every time it yaps, they would have to start the scene over which for Yoongi used to be great but now, he feels an impending sense of doom as the chihuahua opens its mouth. “Yoongi!”
Oh yeah, her voice was really high pitched. Something that could break a wine glass if she tried to sing opera. “Candy.” He whispers before kissing her cheek.
He used to be fond of her. Hell, they’d even gone on a date once after they filmed a marriage scene together. She was not for him. Not for anyone that had a clear thinking mind and that could count above fifty. “I’m so excited! You remember Tiberius, don’t you?” She asks as she holds up her dog.
The small dog growls at Yoongi as he gives a half hearted chuckle, “Of course I do. Hi...Tiberius.” He retracts his hand harshly as the dog nips at the air.
“Let’s go get you dressed. Hmm?” Hoseok asks, hooking a hand over his shoulder. He hums to him as they walk towards his dressing room. “Please, kill me now.” He whispers fiercely, earning a loud laugh from Seok as he pushes open the door.
Running his hands over Candy's body, he lets out a hum of appreciation. Concentrating on keeping his face steady as the camera pans upward. He pinches her nipples roughly, a gasp emitting through the set as she wiggles her hips cheekily. Would Y/N like that? Would she like his book counterpart to treat her roughly like this? Or would she want to be praised?
"God, look at your sexy little nipples." He says aloud before slapping her breast. She whines into the camera, pulling on the handcuffs as her legs part wider. "So fucking hard for me." He comments before trailing his tongue around her stiff peaked areola.
She keens for him and his eyes shut just to shield his eye roll. But as the room fades to black behind his eyelids, he remembers something. Nevermore watches his videos. She watches to get ideas.
His head turns to the director as he moves out of the way for the camera to take a shot of her wet pussy. "You said free script?" He asks him.
The director waves his hand agreeing before looking back at the monitor. His smirk sends Candy beneath him into a fluster. She eyes him delicately as he spreads her legs. Candy was good at this though, rolling off the cuff with whatever her co-stars do.
Yoongi taps his palm to her pussy before rubbing slow circles on her clit. "Look at you, baby. Aching for my big cock. You remember when I met you outside of the hotel? In my leather jacket?" She whimpers at the stimulation before nodding.
"You looked so good for me. I wanted to just tear you apart." He hums at her words before pulling his cock out of his briefs.
"I asked if I could help you, little one. But it's you who'll be helping me. Suck my cock." He instructs as he shoves his cock towards her face. Saying the lines from Nevermore's story, acting like his book counterpart sends his nerve endings aflame.
His body tingles with satisfaction and the smile that creeps onto his face is one of pure joy as his cock enters her lips.
Throwing yourself down onto your roommates bed, she raises an eyebrow at you before folding her arms. "What's with the face?"
"Viiii." You whine loudly before burying your head into her pillow. She scoffs gently before laying down next to you.
"Are you stuck with your writing?" You whinge loudly in agreement before rolling on to your back.
Twirling her hair around her finger, she snorts gently before leaning against the headrest of her bed. "What part are you on? Hurry up Taehyung is coming over in forty minutes to take me out on a date."
"Oh Taehyung is more important than your best friend ever that is going through a crisis?!" You faun shock as you sit up on your knees. She laughs, kicking out her feet before rolling her eyes.
"No. Well...He has a big dick so getting dicked down might be more important but anyway, back to your crisis." Your lips sputter as you giggle before crossing your legs beneath you.
"She's going to have sex with Min Yoongi." You tell her and she hums before tilting her head.
"And? Your smut is hot. Just do what you always do. Fuck her till she's crying." She states plainly and you can't help but chortle at her words.
"But he's a fucking porn star. I don't know how to just-" You intertwine your fingers before smacking them together repeatedly.
"Okay, the word is cohesion. Whatever the fuck that is you think your doing- is gross so please stop that." You pout at her and she pokes your nose before grabbing her laptop with a gentle grunt.
"Let's get some ideas for your dirty sex romp." She whispers before opening up the laptop.
Skimming through the videos, the thumbnails make your eyes go wide. "How does she do that?!" Viola asks loudly before trying to pick up her leg and put it behind her head.
"Seems like the work of the devil." You murmur before continuing to scroll.
"Look! A new one! 'Cuffs and Leather.' Sounds lethal." She wiggles her eyebrows at you and you nudge her with a laugh before opening up the video.
Right off the bat it's filthy. And, you can't help the way your body leans in as his hand grazes over her bare sides. "God, his voice is so rich and dreamy." Your roommate comments as he tells her how pretty her nipples are.
Your thighs press together unconsciously before tilting your head. His eyes seem alight with mischief as they look deeply into the camera. It makes something inside of you stir almost innately. "She's pretty." Viola whispers before leaning back against the headrest.
"Look at you, baby. Aching for my big cock. You remember when I met you outside of the hotel? In my leather jacket?" Those words send your heart lurching.
"No fucking way." Viola yells as she sits up quickly. Your head whips to her as your eyes go wide.
"No way. No FUCKING way!" She screams before cupping her mouth.
"I asked if I could help you, little one. But it's you who'll be helping me. Suck my cock." His voice, the teasing tone sends you rigid. Your throat dries up and all you emit is a squeak as Viola slaps her fingers onto the spacebar pausing the video.
"Oh my FUCKING GOD. Y/N!" Her screams sound foggy to your ears as your heartbeat begins to fill the void of noise. He's seen it. He's fucking READ it.
Your face goes red as you stare at the screen. Your left eye begins to twitch as Vi presses her hands to your shoulders and shakes you. Her squeals bring you back to reality and you cover your face with your hands. "That's so amazing! He's read Take One!" She cheers happily and you begin to feel sick.
Your stomach rolls, a cold sweat creeping onto your skin as you put your hand to your forehead. "No." You whisper to yourself before laying back onto her plethora of pillows.
"Yes! This is incredible!"
"No." It's weaker this time as she straddles you. Jumping up and down happily and your body moves freely atop the mattress like a limp noodle.
"Y/N! What are you going to do?!" She squeals as she shakes you around.
"Delete it." You say before looking up at her. She stops for a second before going wide eyed.
"What?! Delete it?! No! What're you talking about?!" She says quickly as you grab your phone from her bedside table.
"I have to delete it. This is embarrassing. I mean, he has read something I made for myself and-" You go to unlock your phone and Viola scoffs loudly.
"No! Give me the phone." She says loudly and you begin to wrestle atop her mattress.
"I HAVE TO DELETE IT. HE SAW WHAT I WROTE! I USED MY OWN NAME IN A FIC!" You yell out as you pin her beneath you. But, she has the grip of a strong barbarian as she shoves your phone down her tank top.
"No! If he didn't like it he would have just ignored it! But, if he had enough balls to put it in a porn! Then you know, he likes it! And he doesn't know your name!" She says.
You grimace at your phone in her shirt before folding your arms. Maybe she was right. Maybe, he did like it. "So what am I supposed to do?" You ask her as she pushes you off of her.
Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she leans in. Fingertip pressing to the tip of your nose as she smirks. "You're going to write the hottest smut in existence and send Min Yoongi, the porn star cumming in his expensive Dior briefs." She says before fishing your phone out of her shirt and throwing it at you.
"That's disgusting." You whine as you wipe your phone. She shrugs before popping a piece of gum into her mouth.
"You've written sex scenes where men run an actual fucking train on a girl and she's covered in like four different types of cum. Get over it." She says before blowing a bubble. You roll your eyes at her before looking back down at the scene.
He wouldn't have said something if he didn't like it. He would have just gone on with life as it were. "Now go write your cute little brain away." She says before shooing you out of her room.
"What're you going to do?" You ask as you jump out of her bed.
"Get ready to get fucked by Taehyung. Duh." She says before rifling through her closet.
With a snort you shut the door behind you before sighing loudly. "Okay, Yoongi. It's on." You whisper before cracking your knuckles and walking towards your bedroom.
Yoongi throws himself on his bed. The California King size is way too large for him. It's seen only him for years now and he can't seem to get as comfortable in the constantly cold sheets like he used to.
Propping his pillows up, he leans against the headboard. Tuesday, the greatest day of the week has arrived. He wonders if you've seen the video that was just released. Did you hate it? Were you too caught up to watch it? He has so many questions that he could speak outwardly just to fall on deaf ears and stagnant air.
Opening up today's chapter, his eyes scan the regular genre and warnings. But the author's note-- that catches his eye.
Author's Note: I SEE that someone really enjoyed the first chapter of TO and for that...I'm very grateful.
He clears his throat loudly before sighing. The smile that radiates off his face would blind even the most ardent sun lover. His fingers tremble, heart beating voraciously inside of his chest. It takes him a second before he's ready to continue on.
"She saw it." He whispers to himself before sniffing gently.
Crossing his feet he scrolls down the page. Eyes reading the words so fast due to sheer excitement that he has to read them over again to absorb their meaning.
It was the coldest of nights when he invited you back to his hotel room. You knew he was only going to be around for so long and you felt the pressing need to see him for as long as you could.
You had always made fun of coffee dates. Always joking and jeering with the ever so clever roommate you heartily loved. Ana was your rock in a very baron land. She implored you to go on the date with him anyway, knowing his career and who he was. Maybe he would be different than every other man, or maybe he would just be the best lay.
"You thought coffee was only for cheapskates, huh?" Yoongi asks as he ushers you into the hotel room.
With a giggle you past the entrance, "Something me and my roommate Ana have said before."
He hums understanding before closing the door behind him. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea. Just because I have the job I do, doesn't mean that I invited you back here to fuck." He says as you shrug off your coat.
He graciously takes it before hanging it on the door hook. "When will I ever get to fuck the esteemed Min Yoongi again?" You quip back to him as you fold your arms.
His smile dazzles you. Sets your breathing irregular as he cards his fingers through his black hair. "Oh, little one. Quite often I hope." He whispers before stepping towards you.
His hands press to your sides, caressing them gently as his head tilts to the side. Cinnamon brown irises flitting from here to there as he drinks you in. His pupils begin to widen, like molten hot tar spreading over the Earth. "I enjoy spending time with you. And, I'm okay with doing just that." He whispers, running his thumb over your bottom lip slowly.
The smooth pad of his thumb sends your stomach alight with something akin to fire. Burning hot and bright inside of you, you step closer to him. "And I'm okay with being here. With you."
He takes your words as a confirmation. Pressing his lips eagerly to yours, you find yourself melting in his strong arms. Lips collide, tongues lashing out at one another as you grip tightly at his biceps.
It's your earnest whimper that sends him into action. His greedy hands grabbing at your thighs before hauling you up easily. "God, your lips are so soft. I bet they'll feel like heaven around my cock." He whispers against you.
His feet pad slowly across the granite floor before you're pressed up against the grey wall of his hotel room. Your fingers knit into his black hair, tugging gently as you angle his face higher. Nipping at your bottom lip, he suckles once coaxing a sweet moan from your throat. "Fuck." He growls as your legs wrap around his waist.
Yoongi chuckles to himself before pulling his erect cock from his briefs. "What're you playing at Nevermore?" He murmurs as his thumb slowly drifts over the reddened tip of his cock.
His lips trail over your cheek, the kisses erupting a lava like pool within your stomach. Your lips part for air as he suckles away at your collarbone, leaving cherry blossom petals in his wake. "You're incredible." He says, before pulling down the low cupped shirt you wear.
Your breasts spring out, pushed up by the cups and he lets out a wanton groan at the sight. "God, look at your sexy nipples."
He lets out a breathy laugh, fist beginning to jerk at his cock faster. His tongue licks over his lips before moaning. "Oh fuck. She really watched it. So hot." He whispers to the still air of his room. Even with lust filled eyes, he pays attention to every written word. Gasping gently at each moment as he reads it through.
His lips, colder now against your heated skin, drift over the valley of your breasts. Stopping over each areola to pluck at your stiff nipples. Your gasps elicit the only reaction worthy, his hips thrusting against you with each sound. "Shit." He curses before suckling harshly at the sensitive skin.
His tongue flicks so fast against your stiff peaks that your head lolls back with heady wanting. It's in this moment that his name rolls off of your tongue. He stops for a second, fingers kneading at your ass before smirking. "Say it again." He commands through gritted teeth before slapping the thick globes beneath his palms.
"Y-Yoongi." You whimper out and his eyes roll back before latching onto your attended breast. His hands bunch up your skirt tugging roughly at the fabric. "You wet for me? Hmm?"
His fingers dip between your asscheeks, feeling at the fabric of your panties. Your breath hitches as he pushes them aside. Running his fingertips over your folds, you whine out his name. "You're soaked, little one. Jesus." He thrusts a finger into you without warning-
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Yoongi chants as his cock throbs in hand. His phone clatters to the pillow beside his face as his eyes screw shut. "Oh Christ!" He whines loudly before cumming.
In a sea of stars, he sees the image of Y/N so clearly as he orgasms. Ropes of cum smatter onto his raggedly breathing chest. He gasps loudly before tilting his head to his phone. "Fuck. She's good." He whispers before looking down at his chest and throwing his head back to his pillow.
Yoongi groans loudly as he sits down on set. The Americano in his hand getting cooler by the second as he skims through the script for what seems like the hundredth time.
"Hoseok tells me you have suggestions." Namjoon, the director says. Yoongi smirks at him before nodding. He holds his hand out to his manager who grunts gently. With a sigh he hands Yoongi the packet of papers before shaking his head.
"This. This is gold. Just read it." He tells the director as he hands him the packet. His thumb skims over the pages before giving a defeated sigh.
"Okay. I'll read it." He says before looking over at Yoongi's co-star. She smiles briefly, nodding in his direction and he feels a sense of calmness.
His co-star today was one of the better ones. She was sweet, naturally pretty and fun to have banter with. "Lin. Hey." He calls to her as the director skims through the packet.
"Hey Yoongs!" She cheers. Walking over, he finds himself staring at her. She would make a good Y/N, most of the things described in Take One would fit her nicely. She leans against his chair casually before running her fingers through her hair.
"I heard we might be switching it up." She points her thumb backwards to Namjoon as he continues to read.
"Yeah. I just...read this idea somewhere and I thought it was great." Yoongi announces to her as Hoseok grabs her a chair.
Sitting down she nods calmly, "What's it about?"
"Steamy first date sex. Coming back after a coffee date and just fucking up against the wall. It was pretty hot." He admits, thinking back to the sheer amount of cum that landed on his chest because of it.
"You have the arm strength to hold me up?" Lindy jokes as she pushes him with her shoulder.
"You still have those thighs of steel? I might need your help on this one." She gives a laugh before turning her attention to the director.
"Genius." Namjoon comments as he smacks his palm to the top page of the packet, "Let's do it."
Yoongi smiles widely before looking at Lindy as she grabs the packet.
"You're soaked little one. Jesus." Yoongi mumbles against Lindy's neck as he thrusts a finger in without warning. She moans loudly, eyes screwing shut as he expertly curls his finger within her.
His cock was so hard already, knowing you would watch this and knowing that it's from your book. Lindy was quick at learning the lines, expertly acting as the perfect Y/N he could only hope for.
"Fuck!" She curses, nails gently scraping down his arms. He groans gently, suckling at the column of her throat as he adds a second finger.
"Your pretty pussy is so tight." He says as he scissors her open, her arousal practically dripping down his hand.
"Y-Yoongi." The gentle tone in her voice makes his arms quake. Y/N would whimper for him like this he bets.
Picking her back up off of the wall, Lindy discards her top. It's almost feverishly fast how his lips attach to her nipple. Groping at the skin of her ass, kneading roughly he spanks her hard. She gasps loudly, breasts thrusting towards his face.
"Once I saw you, I only wanted this. To feel you in my hands like putty. To-" He scissors her pussy open wider for his cock, "-To feel your soaked cunt stretch around my big cock."
His hand leaves her cunt only to unbutton his jeans. She kisses down his neck, nipping gently at the skin in her euphoric pleasure. "I want your big cock inside of me."
He groans at her words, pressing her harder into the wall. Cock springing out, he coats the underside in her arousal before lifting her easily by her thighs. "Thighs of steel, get ready." He jokes, almost silently into Lindy's ear and he can hear a gentle snort in reply.
He positions her entrance above his cock before pressing his lips to hers. The kiss is heated, tongues tangling with one another as he slowly sets her down. Her mouth opens wider at the stretch, his teeth biting and pulling at her bottom lip with a moan.
"God, you're fucking tight." He mumbles as her hands snake around his neck.
He was in his element now. Thinking of the book and becoming his book counterpart. Knowing just how crazed Yoongi in the texts becomes at the feel of Y/N's pussy on him. He could practically cum right now on the spot and it sends him into a pleased fury.
"Y/N." He whispers, closing his eyes. He doesn't realize what he has said until Lindy leans in to him.
"Easy now, big guy. Don't put your girlfriends name in." His eyes snap open before clearing his throat.
"Sorry, Lin." He says before thrusting roughly within her. Her hands scramble to grip him tighter as he begins to fuck her for all she's worth.
"Goddammit! You feel so fucking good! Oh shit!" He whines loudly and his eyes flutter shut as he pictures Y/N on his cock.
Teeth gritting, he rolls his hips filling every nook and cranny of her cunt. She was the perfect vessel for this, transporting him to a cloud high above nine as he bulldozes himself inside of her. Every sound, Lin's gasps and moans send him on the right track of hearing Y/N's voice. She was practically alive off the page for him.
"Fuck! Your cock feels so good!" She whines as he lifts her hips off of the wall. His tongue licks over his lips as his cock impales her deeper.
"Rub your clit for me, little one." Bunching up her skirt, she rubs at her clit and he can feel his cock already throbbing. He should keep himself at bay, finish the scene but this was the first time he would be finishing inside someone in almost two years. He can't pass this up.
"Yoongs." Lindy warns as he presses his lips into a straight line.
"God, little one. You're going to make me cum, your pussy feels too fucking good." He skipped a bunch of lines to get to this one. He can't bring himself to feel sorry though as white hot pleasure courses through him. He could see her behind his shielded eyes, could see Y/N drooling for his big cock as he fucks her. He could hear her whimpers and moans as he fucks her open.
He could feel Lin's fingers moving in frenzied circles to get off on him and he chokes on a moan as he buries his face into her neck. "Y/N. Fuck. Your pussy is so amazing. Oh, God!" He whines as his cock throbs wildly within her begging for release.
In her heady pleasure, she forgoes chiding him. Instead, she orgasms loudly. Moans ricocheting off the walls of the set as her pussy clamps around his huge cock. "Y/N! Oh shit!" He gasps out loudly as his thighs lock.
He doesn't notice the camera panning to where they're conjoined. He certainly doesn't notice how much he babbles Y/N's name. Lin runs her fingers through his hair, tugging roughly and that's all it takes before he's stuttering inside of her.
"Oh SHIT!" He yells out as his cock gives a final twitch of pleasure. He cums hard, arms and thighs shaking as her pussy becomes painted white with his seed. Her thighs clamp around him, holding herself up as he practically goes limp before her. His eyes fill with pleasurable tears and he brings himself back to reality to hold her to the wall.
Pulling out of her gently, he finds it immensely satisfying to see his cum finally leak from a pussy after so long. He moves out of the way of the camera before running his fingers through his hair. "Oh fuck." He murmurs realizing now what he's said in his hedonistic pleasure.
"Please cut out Y/N's name." He tells Namjoon who simply nods as Lindy spreads her pussy lips for the camera. She sticks her tongue out at Yoongi and he gives an exhausted chuckle before closing his eyes. Nevermore is the first person to make him cum like this in years.
"You alright?" Lin asks as the prep team cleans her up. Yoongi sighs happily before nodding to her.
"Oh yeah, I'm great. Sorry I said her name during that." He tells her and she scoffs before rolling her eyes.
"Don't apologize. It felt good to be Y/N." She says before kissing his cheek.
It felt really good to be Yoongi too.
Sitting down in your living room, it's become a ritual now-- or so Viola says, to watch every new porn Min Yoongi puts out. "This is the most canon like thing that's ever happened in my lifetime." Vi says as she throws herself down beside you.
She scrolls through the new video playlist before casting it onto your television. Opening a bag of chips, she holds it out to you.
"I'll probably choke." You murmur as you settle in to watch the new video. She snorts loudly before munching on a chip.
"This is so exciting. You know, I cancelled a date with Taehyung for this." She informs you before pressing play. Placing a pillow on your lap you bury your chin into the soft fabric before tilting your head to her.
"What's the name of this one?"
"'Cheap dates.'" She says before throwing the remote onto the coffee table and giving the screen her undivided attention.
"You're soaked little one. Jesus." Yoongi whispers and the embarrassed laugh that bubbles forward is almost ridiculous. You bury your face into the pillow and you get a quick swat on your arm from your best friend reprimanding you.
"Pay attention! He's fingering her." You laugh louder now, picking your head up slowly.
It's almost like a fever dream. Watching him reenact the scenes you've so earnestly written. After the initial shock and horror of it all, it kind of became flattering. Knowing that he was so into it. There was something inside of you stirring.
"Goddammit. You feel so fucking good." You say right before he says his line. The overwhelming sense of pride you feel while watching this makes your heart swell. It’s almost as if he was your greatest supporter. It’s a deeper understanding of knowing how connected you are just by the words you write.
“It really is exactly like the second chapter.” Viola says. Her voice rips you out of your day dream like state.
You watch as Yoongi becomes almost animalistic, driving himself into the woman wrapped around him. It stirs you, your thighs pressing together inherently as your lips part.
“He seems like he’s real into it. Look at him.” Your best friend murmurs and you can’t deny her words as he skips half of the scene in his deep seated pleasure. As he buries his face in her neck you can hear his soft grunting and babbling like there’s no tomorrow.
“Y/N.” The end of your name gets tapered off quickly and you sit up quickly at his moan. Your pussy clenches around nothingness, head turning to your roommate as her jaw drops wide open.
“Did you just hear him s-” Your voice is cut off by hers as she leans in to look at the television.
“Oh yeah.” She whispers before covering her mouth with her hand.
It’s an awkward silence as he finishes his scene. Heart racing at the speed of sound. Your palms begin to sweat as you stare at his lusty haze. Watching his arms and legs shake with bouts of euphoria. “Y/N. This is… I mean… He’s thinking of you when he fucks someone else.” Vi whispers.
“No. He’s thinking of the book character. I’m just Nevermore to him.” You feel a sense of overwhelming pride as he gently sets his co-star down on the ground. Her pussy creams with his cum before the video ends and you find your body hurtling itself back into the couch with a sigh.
“Post a selfie.” Viola says quickly before throwing your phone into your lap. Your head turns to her in confusion as she waves her arms wildly.
“What?!” Your voice is exasperated as she moves her hands faster.
“Post a selfie on your blog and as soon as he likes the post then just take it down.” She says before unlocking your phone for you. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, not truly understanding what she’s trying to get at.
“Why?”
“Because you’re fucking hot and he needs to know what you look like! Just trust me! Did I get the hottest guy in a four mile radius to talk to me by just posting a selfie?” You nod slowly to her and she winks at you.
“Trust me. Just do it.” You shrug before opening up your camera.
“Pull these babies out.” Viola says as she pulls down your tank top to show your cleavage and you narrow your eyes at her as she shifts you around before humming to herself.
Fixing your hair, you tilt your head and she tuts her tongue beside you. “Just lips and tits.” She tells you and you sigh gently.
“Why?” You ask again.
“Because your eyes are the element of surprise. Just listen to me for once in your life, please.”
Sighing loudly you do as told, taking a picture of your lips and the curvature of your cleavage. Viola hooks her chin over your shoulder before smiling. “Wow, your boobs look great.” She comments before patting your upper back.
Opening up Tumblr, you attach the photo before looking at Vi. She grabs the phone before smirking and you read over her shoulder as she types in a comment.
Feeling like Y/N today!
You snort as she posts it, breath catching in your throat as she replays the porn video.
“What’re you going to do after the shoot?” Yoongi asks his manager as he slings his leather jacket over his shoulders in one smooth motion. He watches Hoseok shift from foot to foot awkwardly. Raising an eyebrow, he leans against the door jamb waiting patiently for a response.
“I’m actually going out with Lindy today. We...um...Started talking after your last shoot.” Hoseok mumbles.
Yoongi gives him a gummy smile before clapping him on the back. “Have fun. She’s really nice, seriously.”
Pulling out his phone, Yoongi takes into account how Hoseok smiles to himself before fixing his clothes. It’ll be good for him to go out with someone. Yoongi knows exactly what it’s like to be lonely. “I’ll head out first then.” Hoseok tells him as he opens up his Tumblr app.
“Have fun, go fuck her so hard she’ll feel it in her kidneys or whatever you say.” Hoseok snorts at his words before tapping his hand against the door frame as he leaves. Picking up his shoulder bag, the first thing he thinks is if Nevermore has watched his latest video.
He hasn’t seen it but he never watches his works after they’re released. There’s something truly cringey about it. Since it was Sunday, a new chapter of Bjorn and Kyla is out. The second to last chapter which seems almost heart wrenching before remembering he has his own story that has only just begun. Clicking on her profile, his legs quake at the image.
“Oh shit.” He whispers at her selfie.
She was all natural. No botox like he’s used to seeing. No breast implants. Just Nevermore. And from what he could see, she was right up his alley. There was a small seam between her tank top and breast showing black lace from her bra. His bottom lip finds itself tucked between his teeth as he leans against the door frame. God, she looks cute. Her lips are parted and he imagines his tongue dipping between them, caressing the pink petals.
His pants begin to tighten and he locks his phone without a second thought.
Getting home for him was almost a blur. Nevermore's lips and chest constantly in the forefront of his brain. Her lips just gently parted as they were, they seemed to hold an innocence to them that intrigued him. She writes such glorious works, the filthiest of sex scenes and she still had this air of innocence. He was so enraptured by a quick glimpse of a photo that he was even wondering if he himself were changing. Changing into a man who wished for something deeper, something fulfilling.
Throwing himself down on his couch, he unlocks his phone. Her picture was gone from his dashboard and he sighs gently.
"Damn." He whispers before refreshing the page again. Just a single post from her. Just one line that sent his lips into a full on smile.
Just a taste for you.
It was kind of exciting. This backhanded flirting that you two have gotten yourselves into over a mere book. You would write and he would act. He would moan your name, close his eyes and dream as if he was inside your book. You would write with the intention to see him act it out.
Yoongi sips his coffee, the first Tuesday he's had off in a long time does not come without excitement. Refreshing your blog, he tilts his head at the new chapter. "What're we getting into today." He whispers before leaning back in his chair.
Softly his fingertips caress your skin, eyes alight with wondrous emotions as you stare at each other in the grandiose bed. The morning sun alerts you, it's golden rays peeking in the window as if to chide you for not having slept all night long.
"I think I love you." Yoongi admits, his voice deep with tiredness as his arm encircles your waist. You begin to smile, eyes creasing with delight. Running your fingers through his black hair, you feel his lips against your shoulder.
"I think I love you too." You whisper before giggling as he straddles you.
"Let me make love to you and show you-"
"Oh God." Yoongi mumbles as he sets down his coffee. Love? God, what even is that? Now he really wishes that he was like his book counterpart. So sure and sound with himself that he could venture out to find love with other people. It almost nauseates him as he continues reading. Jealousy creeping up inside of him like venom.
Nevermore's beautifully written words make him seem devoid of feeling anything at all. He wants to be this Yoongi, so badly it's almost eating him alive.
His fingers press the backspace before opening up the messenger page. Clicking on her name he tilts his head as his fingers fly over the keyboard.
Min1993: I don't make love, Nevermore.
Sending the message, he hums to himself. Before he can pick up his coffee he widens his eyes. "Oh fuck! You idiot what did you do?!" He yells before trying to will his phone to unsend the message.
With an exasperated sigh, he throws his arms up annoyed with himself. Shoving his phone away, he buries his face in his arms before scoffing.
"I don't make love." He mocks himself before closing his eyes.
"VIOLA GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!" The screech that emits from you earns a clattering in the kitchen and wild cursing. You stand up from your phone as if it has caught fire, both of your hands slapping over your mouth. Your eyes widen at the message, the five words on the screen feel as if they're stabbing you.
"What?!" Viola yells as she stomps into your bedroom. With shaking hands, you point at your phone before swallowing. She hip checks you out the way, drying her hands on the kitchen towel.
"I just broke the ceramic dish me and Taehyung made at the pott- OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!" She screams as she drops the towel. She jumps on your bed, picking up your phone and you close your eyes.
Writing for him and seeing what he does is one thing. Getting a message from him is clearly another thing altogether. It's with a shaky sigh that you run your hands over your face.
"He messaged you. I can't believe it and-" She looks over the message before smirking, "He's flirting with you."
With a scoff you look up at the ceiling. Your eyes drift from here to there, not focusing on anything with certainty. Drifting past one of his porns randomly had gotten you here? Flirting with one of the hottest men you'd ever seen in your life. This was like fiction in and of itself. Pushing past your insecurities, your insides clamor with excitement. Arms and legs shaking with adrenaline.
"Go on! Answer him!" Vi says before pulling you down to sit next to her. Your hands quiver as you take the phone from her, thumbs nervously shivering above the keyboard.
NevermoreWrites: Then what do you do, Yoongi?
"God, imagine if he asks you out on a date? Imagine he fucks you?" She asks, getting comfortable on your bed.
Her voice falls on deaf ears as you stare at the phone. That nervous niggling beginning to eat at you again. This banter that you'll begin to engage in, where will it lead you? If he wants to meet, you would dare show your face to him? Even after describing Y/N in the books exactly like yourself?
The insanely loud pop of the Tumblr messenger goes off and you jump from your nervous spell to look at your phone.
Min1993: I would love to give you some pointers. If you'd be interested. I think myself more of a Bjorn than anything else.
You gasp gently, sending Viola scrambling into your lap. He's read your other books before? Oh God!
"Amazing! He's amazing! It's official and he has a huge cock!" Viola says before slapping her thighs in a defeated manner.
NevermoreWrites: A Bjorn? Wow, I'm impressed.
You run your sweaty hands over the knees of your sweatpants. You tilt your head to Viola as she smiles widely.
Min1993: I've been a fan for a long time Nevermore. Seriously, I have ideas. Give me a call 3721-8724.
Both of you in your room lowly whistle at the same time before laying back on your bed. Your heart beat fills your ears as your roommate giggles. You lay silently for a while before turning to look at one another.
"So you gonna call him?" She asks quietly as you put your hand over your heart.
"Mhm." You hum to her before beginning to smile. Maybe this project that you began for just yourself is turning into something even bigger than you could ever imagine.
Yoongi doesn't do nervous. He hasn't been nervous since his first audition where he had to have his cock measured. But now, waiting for your phone call, he finds himself incredibly nervous.
Throwing the fourth empty water bottle in the trash, he paces around his kitchen. Even after drinking so much water, his mouth still felt dry. He even put on nice clothes for a phone call. "Something is wrong with me." He whispers to his empty apartment.
This woman, that he's waiting on. The woman he's been a fan of for so long now is going to call him. And, he hopes to the new gods and the old that he doesn't make a fool of himself. Pacing the granite floor of the kitchen, he wills himself to keep his eyes off his phone. Staring at the clock of his oven instead as seconds feel like years.
It's the ringtone that makes him jump. Knocking over the container of kitchen tools on his counter, he curses before picking up his phone. Taking a deep breath, he answers the call.
"Hello?" His voice is steady, which he is grateful for. But the way his chest vibrates with anxiousness makes him grimace.
"Hi." Your voice is soft. Sending shivers down his spine as he leans against the marble countertop. Your voice sounds so sweet to his ears.
"Nevermore." The word becomes breathless as he begins to smile.
"Yoongi."
God, his name from your lips is gold. Shoving off of the counter, his heart finds its regular rhythm. His feet pad to the living room before flopping onto the couch with a sigh.
"I am a big fan of your work." He admits to you. You giggle at his compliment, sending butterflies aflutter in his gut.
“And I am a big fan of your work.” He gives a devious chuckle, his arm finding its way beneath his head as he gets comfortable.
“God, this is nerve wracking.” You say and he can hear your breathless laugh behind it.
The image of your lips, parted ever so slightly and your cleavage come to mind. Swiping his tongue over his lips, he doesn’t find it odd how at ease he has already begun to feel.
“I thought the same thing, but your voice is very calming.” Even without seeing you, he likes to think you’re smiling as widely as he is at his words.
“Yours too.” You whisper and he can hear shuffling on the other end of the line.
“I really am a big fan. I’ve read all of your books before even seeing that you were writing a series about me.” His fingers play with the hem of his charcoal grey button up shirt as he stares at the ceiling.
“Did I get anything right so far?” You ask him quietly. Your voice was as eloquent as your writing. Every word sounded like a song he never could tire from.
“Some things. I’m a fan of the Yoongi in your book. He’s much braver than me, I like how you portray me. Far better than myself, I’m sure.” He hears you snort gently and he chuckles in return.
“Just because you fuck as a job, doesn’t mean you aren’t human.” You tell him. And, the curse that slips past your lips begins to stir something inside of him.
“You did however get something wrong.” He murmurs, his voice becoming a bit more gravelly as he runs his hand over his chest. The gasp you take, the quick sound has his tongue slowly traipsing along his lower lip as he begins to smirk.
“What did I get wrong?” You ask and the nervousness bubbles through easily. Clearing your throat, he takes that second to chuckle to himself.
“Oh, Nevermore. I don’t make love. I fuck every way till Sunday.” His voice is smooth as velvet, and he finds his cock beginning to stir in his jeans.
“Oh God.” Your voice is faint and you sound like you’re about to pass out.
“I can stop. Or I can show you my ideas on how to make it feel more like me. If you want, we can always just talk about Bjorn or Kyla. What the last chapter is going to be about next week.” He says quickly, hoping he didn’t give you the impression that all he wants is to have phone sex. Because, in all honesty, he doesn’t. He wants to get to know you. Wants to know how your wonderful brain can write such amazing, illuminating things. But, the prospect of you all for him right now is something he cannot pass up.
“No...No. I just haven’t done something like this in a long time.” You admit with a laugh. He chuckles to himself before pulling his arm out from beneath his head.
“We’ll take it slow.” He murmurs before hearing your hum of agreeing.
“Tell me your name. Please.” He hears your unsure hum and he tilts his head. Forehead resting to the couch cushion as he practically feels your hesitant stutter.
“Or don’t. I can call you Nevermore.” He says quickly, hoping to not ruin the mood.
“Y/N.” You whisper.
He chuckles at this. Eyes closing before sniffing. But, you don’t laugh along with him.
“Y/N? Like in the book?” He asks humorously.
“Yes. Like in the books. My name is Y/N.” Your voice is devoid of any playfulness. Yoongi sits up quickly, fingers carding through his black hair as he nods. You were deathly serious. But, it doesn’t put him off. No. If anything his cock strains harder against the unforgiving tightness of his jeans. With a sigh, he unbuttons them before licking his lips.
“Fuck. That’s hot.” He announces and the breath of relief you give makes him lay back down.
“It was supposed to be for me and my readers… I-I never thought that you would re-”
“Y/N.” His voice is quick as he cuts you off, “Shall we begin, little one?”
He can hear your sweet low whine before you hum in agreement. Unbuttoning his shirt slowly, he lets his fingers drift over the smooth skin of his chest.
“You got my cock real hard over here, baby. I’m thinking about that cute little picture you posted for me.” He whispers as he unzips his jeans.
“Did you like it?” The softness of your voice sends his nerves wrought with excitement.
“Fuck yes. You should have kept it up just a little longer. I was getting hard in public over your little slutty display.” Your gasp elicits a groan from his throat.
“I wanted you to see how much I appreciated you using my scene in one of your movies.” He finds it cute that you don’t use the word porn like it isn’t something he does almost every day.
“You can show me now how much you appreciate it. What’re you wearing?” He asks as he tugs off his jeans, throwing them over the lip of the couch without a care.
“I’m wearing just panties and a t-shirt.” You reply and he groans louder at the thought.
“Fuck. You’re going to take everything off for me, do you understand?” He asks as he discards his button up shirt to the floor.
“Yes.” He curses quietly at your submissive answer before pulling his cock out of his briefs.
“Your lips looked so pretty parted like that. I want them around my cock.” His hand shakes as he reaches for the length of his cock. Precum beginning to pool at the slit as you keen on the other end of the phone.
“I’ve wanted to feel you all over me since I first saw your videos.” You admit to him.
“Fuck, I bet you do baby. Touch your nipples for me.”
With a gentle gasp, you reach for your breasts. Your breath is hitched as you cup them in hand. “Roll your nipple with your fingers and pinch.” He instructs you and your hips bow off the bed at his request.
God, how were you here doing this right now? With him? THE Min Yoongi having phone sex with you.
Whimpering, you roll your nipples between your fingertips. “I bet you look so pretty playing with your tits, little one.” The use of the pet name that you wrote for him sends you into a frenzy. Stomach unfurling with lava like heat as your legs spread wider on the bed.
“Yoongi, please. I need more.” You beg. The devilish chuckle he gives has liquid arousal seeping out of you towards the mattress.
“You need more? You’ve already seen my cock. I need to picture what your sweet cunt would feel like around me. How you would beg me to fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day.” You pant at his words, breath devoid in your chest as your toes curl.
“Touch your aching pussy for me, then.” He whispers and you hear his breath hitch on the other end of the line. Your hand dips down your stomach, all the while your fingers continue to pinch and roll your nipples.
Spreading your pussy lips, you’ve surely never felt yourself this wet before. “My pussy is so wet for you.”
“Jesus, fuck.” He mutters out and you try to imagine how he looks right now. Laying down with his bottom lip clasped between his teeth. Droplets of sweat sticking to his black sideburns. “I bet your pussy is nice and swollen, hmm? Your clit is probably real sensitive, begging to be touched. Why don’t you rub your clit for me, little one?”
Doing as told you run your middle finger around your clit in gentle circles. Pressing your lips into a straight line you whimper out quietly. He tuts his tongue in a way that makes your eyes roll back. “Who told you to keep quiet? I want to hear you, Y/N.”
“Fuck.” You mumble through gritted teeth. Hearing your name actually fall from his lips as he pleases himself, knowing it’s really you who he’s giving his pleasure to makes you moan louder.
“That’s it. Fuck, you sound so hot. How wet are you for me? Put a finger in your cunt.” With a whine, you do as told. Running your fingers down your sodden lips before entering a finger into yourself. Grabbing your phone off the pillow beside you, you place the phone between your legs as you thrust your finger into yourself.
The moan he gives is almost hedonistically evil, “Another.”
Pushing the second finger in, the sounds of your soaked pussy emanate throughout the room and you moan his name loudly. “You’re so hot, Y/N. I swear to fucking God.” His voice sounds muffled as if he’s speaking through gritted teeth.
“Yoongi. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me.” He whimpers out before groaning.
“You got me edging myself baby. You sound so fucking good.” Thrusting your fingers, you let out a yelp as you curl them to the spongy spot inside of you.
“Take them out.” You whine in defiance as you continue to build your pleasure higher. Your eyes roll back as you squeeze at your breast, hips lifting off of the bed.
“Y/N. Take them out of your pussy. Now.” His voice demands respect and submission and with a frown you take your fingers out of yourself.
“If you aren’t going to listen. We aren’t going to play. I’ll hang up and cum alone, is that what you want?”
“No.” You mumble to him. He hums in agreement as you pick your phone back up from between your legs.
“Put your filthy slut fingers in your mouth and suck your slick.” It’s almost mind boggling how quickly he changed roles. But, fuck, if it doesn’t get you on edge.
Entering your fingers into your mouth, you whimper at the musky taste on your tongue. “You taste how needy you are for my large cock? Bet it tastes good, doesn’t it? Knowing that your dripping for a porn star you’re dying to fuck.”
Whining against your fingers, your pussy clenches around nothing as he lets out a laugh. “Spank your cum slut pussy. I want to hear it.”
Your hand shakes as you rear back before slapping your cunt. “You can do better than that, slut. Slap your filthy cunt.”
Fuck, how is he so goddamn hot? You slap your pussy, the feeling ricocheting through you as your body jolts. Gasping loudly, you end with his name on your lips.
“That’s it. Good girl, little one. You’re so good at following directions. Play with your clit again, you must be aching.” He says and you can hear movement on the other end of the line.
“Are you touching your cock?” You ask him.
“Fuck yes. You’re driving me insane, baby.” Your clit throbs, aching to be touched and you concede. Rubbing smooth circles, you whine his name out only to hear a string of curses from his end of the phone.
"Tell me what you want to do to me." You beg as you continue your ministrations.
He gives a growl and your eyes roll back at the thought of him stroking his cock to you. "I want to stretch you out on the bed, body flayed for me. Make you cum on my cock so many times you'd go stupid for me. I wanna spank your naughty little cunt for even teasing me this badly." He admits and your whimper earns another curse from him.
"I want to suck your big cock, let you use me like a cocksleeve."
"Jesus fucking Christ." He says breathlessly.
"Put your fingers in your pussy. Cum for me, I want to hear it." Your fingers jump at the chance, leaving your breast to play with your sodden hole.
"I want to bend you over a fucking table and spank you so hard. Want you to drool for my cock and cum. Wanna make you cry for it." You hear faster movement on his end, his breath hitching before groaning loudly.
Entering two fingers into yourself, you keen loudly for him. Toes curling as you set an unrelenting pace. You haven't felt this sexy or turned on in so long. "Did you cum for me?" You ask sweetly before tucking your bottom lip between your teeth.
"Not yet, baby. I'm real good at keeping myself on edge. It's my job, remember. Curl your fingers to your g-spot." He tells you.
Curling your fingers, your thighs become turse. "Yoongi! Fuck! I-I want to cum for you."
"That's it, little one. Keep going. You sound so gorgeous when you moan for me. Makes me want to please you so well."
"What else do you want to do?!" You ask quickly as the bubble inside of you begins to expand.
"What else? Baby, I want to do everything to you. Wanna suck on your sweet nipples until they're swollen and red for me. Fuck your cunt until your squirting all over me like a fucking slut. I especially want you to let me use your throat how I see fit and cut off your air with my cock. Watch you gasp for breath as you let me use you as a cocksleeve." You gasp for him, eyes screwing shut as your hips lift off the bed.
"Your pussy sounds so wet. You're making a fucking mess, I bet. I would love to lick it up. Taste your pretty litt-" You whine his name loudly, hips gyrating as you reach your precipice. "-Go ahead, little one. Cum for me."
Willing it to be so, you orgasm. Your head lolls back as your ears go deaf with white noise. You feel your cum leak out past your fingers as you fuck yourself through your orgasm. "Such a good girl." He praises as you whimper his name repeatedly.
"Yoongi." You whine as you ride out your high.
"Still here, baby. I'm so close to cumming." He groans out.
Fisting his cock in hand, he can hear your exhausted pants on the other end of the line. His cock throbs wildly, having been edged to completion four times already.
"I want to suck your dick so badly. Let you cum in my mouth and swallow it. Show you I'm a good girl for you." Your voice is so gentle, so fucking sweet.
"Goddamn, Y/N. I'm- Baby, fuck!" He curses as he shoves his phone up to his shoulder off of his bare stomach.
"Want you to cum in my pussy and make me lick it off your cock." The beautiful thought of his cum glazing your lips and cheeks sends his fist stuttering.
"Y/N! Shit!" He yelps out as he orgasms. He gasps loudly, eyes screwing shut as he ruts his hips into the air. Warm ropes of cum land on his stomach as he moans for you.
"Jesus. Wow." He slurs out, feeling drunk off of the pleasure.
There's silence for a bit as you both breath heavily. Yoongi's eyes slowly open before he chuckles to himself.
"Can I tell you a secret?" He asks as he uses his boxers to wipe his stomach. You hum in agreement and the sound tickles him pink as he turns his body on the couch.
"Until I read your stuff, I couldn't cum for a long time. I was really not excited about sex anymore until I read your works." He admits to you.
"Really? But, you seem so into your work." He feels cozy now. This pillow talk going above and beyond anything he could have imagined.
"I haven't been for a while. This was more erotic to me then most of the women I fuck." Your silence at his words makes him question if he's said something wrong. Picking skin off of his lip with his teeth, he waits for your reply.
"That makes me feel really warm to hear that." You finally say and he lets out a breath of relief before smiling.
"Well it's true… Listen Y/N. I'd really like to continue talking to you. To get to know you more."
"I'd like that, too."
"You fucking like it? Like trying to gasp for air around my cock? Hmm?" He seethes through his teeth as he thrusts his cock deeper into his co-stars throat.
Yoongi has gotten amazing at shutting his eyes and picturing you behind his eyelids. He hasn't even seen you, yet. But, your conversations on the phone, the way you can giggle and talk for hours it was like a dream. A dream he would never want to wake up from.
You were so real with him. Your personality is so magnetizing that it almost makes him feel like he's always known you. And in a way, he has known you. Your mind, your creativity and the way you write expressed something deep in your soul that he had always known.
The tap to his thigh makes him stop. Pulling his cock out of his co-stars mouth, he slaps it against her cheek. Smearing his precum and her spit over her face, he tugs her hair roughly before smiling. "Look at you, slut. Begging for daddy to stop when you practically got on your knees to grovel for my pleasure. What does that say about you? Hmm?"
With a whimper she opens her mouth for him again, black mascara tinted tears streaming down her cheeks. "That's a good girl." He praises before entering his cock into her mouth. Your lips would be much better suited for the task he thinks. Remembering how you begged to let him cum in your mouth just to swallow his seed.
"Jesus. That's it, little one." His cock throbs as her tongue swirls over the head. Pulling her closer with every thrust, his head lolls back. He wants to cum so badly. Wants to release and let the camera see his cum on his co-stars tongue knowing you'll watch it.
"Fuck. Your slutty mouth feels so good around my cock, baby." He whispers through gritted teeth. He bets his life on it that you would whimper at the taste of his precum as your fingers dig into the skin of his thighs. That you would extend your tongue just to get every drop of his warm cum in your mouth.
"Y/N! Fuck!" He yelps out as he orgasms.
Disregarding the name he just said he taps her cheek roughly before pulling out. "Show me and then swallow for daddy, you slut."
She does as told, the camera panning to her mouth before swallowing. "Good girl." He says before stepping away from the camera and her.
"Did you like it?" He asks as he cracks open his beer.
With a laugh you hum unsurely, "I don't know. You seemed awfully pleased to cum in her mouth."
Rolling his eyes, he sips his beer before sitting down on his couch. "You know I was picturing your mouth around me, don't be silly."
You giggle as a reply and he can hear clacking on your end of the phone call. "What're you up to? Writing?" He asks as he puts his feet up on the coffee table.
"Yeah. Next weeks chapter of Take One." You tell him and he smiles at your words.
"Am I going to fuck you over a table again? That was hot." He mumbles over the lip of his beer bottle.
"No. You're making love." You say seriously. Rapid tapping enters his ears and he sighs dejectedly.
"You know I don't do that. I don't know how." He replies.
"I watched that video of you having sex with a woman on your wedding night." He gives a breathy snort before clearing his throat.
"Yeah but I didn't love her. I was acting. Your Yoongi in Take One is seriously in love with Y/N. He gets all emotional and shit." The sound pauses and silence invades his ears. He's gotten used to your long pauses, taking them as a sign of deep thought now rather than nerve wracking.
"I'll teach you." You finally say to him.
His eyebrows quirk up and he leans forward on the couch at your words. "You'll teach me?"
"Yeah. I'll teach you how to make love. Teach you how to feel emotion rather than just fucking someone till they can't remember their own name."
"If you recall, last night you couldn't remember your own name after we had phone sex." He quips back, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Yoongi."
"Y/N."
"I'll teach you." You tell him sternly and who is he to say no.
"Yes ma'am." He replies quietly and he can practically feel your smile through the phone.
"How about on Thursday? Your apartment or mine?" You ask.
He shivers at the thought before running his thumb over his bottom lip. Fuck, you were amazing. "Mine. Should I buy candles? Maybe rose petals? Decorate a heart on the bed with them?" He jokes to you.
"No. Just you and your pretty cock is fine."
Fuck.
You stand in front of his front door, tilting your head at the brass numbers. You should feel more nervous that you are, you find yourself thinking. You were more excited than anything else. This is like finally seeing a lover after months of being away from one another. But, you’ve never seen each other. Only talked for long hours until the early hours of the morning.
You feel comfortable talking with him though. Constantly finding yourself at odds with your gut as butterflies flutter endlessly within you. It just felt natural. You weren’t even that nervous for him to see you in your entirety after portraying Y/N in Take One exactly like yourself.
Taking a deep breath you ring his doorbell. You can hear sound through the midnight blue door and your heart leaps with excitement.
A minute feels like hours as you stand in the hallway. “Coming!” You hear faintly.
His voice is even rich and creamy through the door, sending your poor nerves on edge. You pull at the hem of your dress, teeth picking at the skin of your bottom lip.
The door opens and you’re greeted with the handsome face you’ve only seen on screen. Breath catching in your throats, you both look each other over for a second. Taking in his black hair as it sweeps into his eyes and the black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Wow.” He’s the first to speak.
“Hi.” You whisper before clearing your throat.
He looks like someone straight off the front page of a magazine. His obvious gawking makes you feel giddy, your stomach flipping and falling like you’re on a high rollercoaster descending to the ground.
“Hey.” He says, a smile creeping onto his face.
You notice how his arm veins protrude as he pushes the door open wider. “Come in.”
With the flurry of excitement, you don’t really take in much of his apartment. Besides the fact that it’s clean and neat. You mainly focus on him. On the way he swings the door shut and runs his hands over his face like he’s trying to ebb away a bout of nervousness. Min Yoongi getting nervous, why you’d never think that.
He presses his back to the door and through his black jeans you can see his thigh muscles tensing. “Wou-Would you like a glass of wine?” He asks, before rubbing his hands together.
“Sure. That’d be great.” You say.
He nods slightly, before rushing past you and you giggle quietly as you follow him. He’s so endearing. So absolutely handsome.
Rounding the corner, your eyes fall to his dining room table and you shake your head with a laugh at the many candles that are lit. “Very funny.” You say as he steps into the kitchen.
He chuckles to himself, not making eye contact with you as he pops the cork of the wine bottle. “They’re beeswax candles for wax play.” He mumbles and you let out a laugh before leaning down to the table.
Elbows folding in on themselves, you look over the bright colors before tilting your head to him. Everything he’s doing, every movement and action is filled with tenseness and you feel sorry that he’s so nervous.
“Yoongs?” You ask gently.
His head whips to you as you call his name. His smile is gummy and gorgeous as he tilts his head. “You okay?” You question as he picks up the two glasses of red wine.
He hums in agreement before taking a deep breath and handing you the glass. He seems to have an inner struggle with himself as his hand reaches for yours. Probably wondering whether or not he should take it in his own hand. You let him work through it and you’re alright when he puts his hand back down to his side.
His fingers flex and rub against the fabric of his pants as if he made the wrong call but you don’t say anything. It’s kind of nice to see his all power, sexy demeanor lost at the sight of you. It makes this real. Makes him real.
He shuffles over to the couch and you follow. Sitting down, he stares ahead at the art installation instead of where a television would be in normal living rooms. You can see him swallow multiple times, Adam’s apple constantly bobbing before shifting a glance over to look at you.
“Nervous?” You ask him before sipping your wine. The flavor bursts in your mouth, undertones of stone fruits and Earth invading your senses. He takes a sip himself before leaning back into the couch and throwing his arm over the top.
“Honestly? A little. You’re exactly how I pictured you.” He says over the lip of the wine glass.
“And that’s a bad thing?” You ask playfully as you cross your legs.
“No! God! No, not at all! It’s kind of amazing. You’re really beautiful. I just don’t hang out with people much. I read your stories and just stay at home by myself.” He finally makes eye contact with you.
His onyx eyes focused solely on your face. They were holding emotions far more than you thought they would. It makes your heart clench, something deep inside of you falling into a cavern without anything holding you tethered.
“Well, you’re exactly how I pictured you too.” You jeer and he chuckles in reply.
He seems to relax after that, molding himself into the couch naturally. And you find it surprising how much you adore his not so cocky attitude like you see in his movies. “Your eyes are very pretty.” He announces before leaning over and putting down his wine glass on the coffee table.
As he moves you can see his upper chest and you tilt your head at the sight. A god among men, perhaps.
You cross your ankles, outstretching your legs and his eyes flit to your thighs. He licks his lips quickly before sitting back up. “Are you nervous?” He asks as he rests his back against the arm of the couch.
“Not really. I’m more excited to finally meet you, after talking for so long.” He smirks at this before folding his arms.
“Who would have thought that you would be the one to put me on edge?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask with a laugh before taking another sip of wine. The alcohol burns nicely as it slides down your throat. Warming your stomach and your insides as he throws one leg up onto the couch bent at the knee.
“You always seem so shy on the phone. I’m surprised it’s me that is feeling the effects so strongly of our meeting.” He says before holding up his hand as it shakes slightly.
“I’m not shy on the phone. I’m submissive for you. That’s different.” You retort making him hum as you set down your glass of wine.
Taking a deep breath, he looks you over once more. There’s something primal in his gaze, taking you in now like prey. He reaches forward, fingers sliding over your dress fabric. Your body turns towards him on instinct, ready for whatever he is going to offer.
This is something you’ve come to terms with. You like him, kind of adore him actually. Talking with him on the phone, giggling and chatting for hours at a time made him seem so perfect. You were honest with one another, your connection very real.
"And are you going to be submissive for me today? If you choose to spend your time with me?" He asks quietly, the octave in his voice dropping so low you could practically feel the baritone shudder through you.
"No." You tell him confidently and he gives a short laugh before inching his way closer to you.
"And why not? You like it when I make you submit." He whispers.
He was so close now, that his wine tainted breath fans over your face.
With him being so close, you could see every emotion in his eyes. Every little thing calling out to you. His tongue slowly licks over his bottom lip and your groin twinges with satisfaction as he begins to smile lazily.
"Because I came over here to teach you today."
"Y/N." He whines.
You watch the way his perfect lips part as he speaks your name. The way it rolls off his tongue like a plea and it makes your stomach coil.
You press your hand against his clothed chest, feeling his pectoral muscles twitch and you feel power surge through you. He was yours to be with today, not anyone else. Not a co-star or any other person, just you.
"Yoongi." You reply and you watch his breath catch in his throat. His eyes flutter shut and you smirk as he relaxes at your touch.
"Say it again."
"Yoongi." He groans at the word and you sit up straighter at the effect you're having on him. It's with a simple giggle that you shove him backwards. He hits the arm of the couch with a grunt before opening his eyes.
Pupils blowing out with lust as his onyx irises gaze upon you. You crawl over his body, his hands finding their place on your thighs upon instinct.
"I like hearing my name from you." He murmurs before showing you the column of his neck as your head bows down.
You press your lips to his skin, the scent of fresh soap and linen breeching your nose as you give slow open mouthed kisses to his honey colored skin. His fingers dig harder into the flesh of your thighs and you could feel him trembling beneath you.
"God, your lips. They feel so good." He whispers before swallowing thickly.
Your hands roam over his shirt, as you suckle gently on his skin. He gasps gently, eyes fluttering shut as he holds you tightly. "I'm going to teach you." You whisper against his skin before nipping.
His hips lift at the sting, eyebrows furrowing as he turns his head to give you more access. "Fuck." He seethes through gritted teeth.
Your fingers begin to slowly unbutton his shirt, his hands snaking over your thighs to your hips before squeezing. "You're so fucking sexy. I knew you would look this good." He says as you lift up to unbutton properly.
"You're pretty hot yourself." You joke and he chuckles before looking back up at you. His thumb drifts over your bottom lip as he locks eyes with you.
"You want me to feel emotion? You got it."
Your chest puffs up at his words as you shove open his shirt. Revealing small abs and perfectly smooth skin, it's hard to find a place to focus as your eyes flit from here to there. His hands steady your hips before sitting up.
He grabs you tightly before slinging you over his shoulder with a chuckle as he stands. "Yoongi!" You gasp out and he bends down just to pick up his wine glass.
He chugs the contents before walking towards his bedroom. With this angle your eyes focus on his backside, every step contorting the muscles of his fit ass. Your hand reaches out for it and you feel a swat at your own backside. "Behave, little one."
You whimper at his words, feeling arousal beginning to pool in your panties as he steps over the threshold of his room. You want to look around and take it all in but you're met with his bed first and foremost.
Throwing you down, he runs his fingers through his hair before crawling over your body. The sheets are silk beneath you and you make out a painting on the wall before his face is in your sights.
"What the fuck are you doing to me? Hmm? Getting me all nervous around you. Making me want to please you so well just to hear my name fall from your pretty lips." He asks as he runs his hands over your dress.
He discards his shirt and you watch his small abs flex under his taut skin with every breath. "Can I take this off?" He asks sweetly as his fingers find the zipper at the side of you.
You lift your body for him as he unzips. He groans at the sound before pressing his lips to your jaw. Sweet kisses glide over your skin and you gasp at the feeling. "I-I'm sup-supposed to be teaching you." You find the words to say as his lips trail down to your neck.
He suckles gently at the skin, leaving pink and red rose petals in his wake. "I think I got the gist, little one." He whispers against you before nipping at your collarbone.
Shoving your dress off of your body, he groans at the sight of you. "This is the bra you wore in that selfie, isn't it?" He asks, running his fingers over the black lace hem of the cups.
You find it in yourself to hum in agreement as he throws your dress to the floor. You don't care how wrinkled it'll get, you can only focus on him as his hands reach for your almost bare body.
You were making him feel something. Something he certainly isn't fucking used to.
Knocking your legs open, he situates himself inside them. "Are you okay? Do you want to continue?" He asks for your confirmation as his hands run over your sides.
"Yes. Fuck, yes." You whine. He chuckles before bending back down. His hands grab at your breasts, squeezing them rough enough to elicit a loud gasp from you.
"Your skin is so soft, little one." His tongue laps over the skin atop your bra before tugging down the cups. Your breasts heave up at the action and he groans at the sight.
"Look at your pretty nipples. Fuck." He curses before encircling your areola with his lips.
You were everything he had hoped to see. Everything he could possibly want and here, underneath him like this was sending him into overdrive.
His hips rut in the air as he flicks at your nipple with the tip of his tongue. Rolling and squeezing your other breast in hand. Your back bows for him, gentle moans escaping your throat as your legs spread wider.
Your hands grasp at his strong shoulders. As he forsakes your nipple to leave his marks around the skin of your breast. "God, you're fucking amazing." He mumbles before moving to your other breast.
Whining his name, your hips lift up begging for more. Hooking his fingers into the sides of your panties, he slowly pulls them down. Tugging on your nipple with his lips as he leaves your core bare for him. "Spread." He instructs.
You find it arousing how he hasn't even looked down below yet. As if he's waiting to reveal it to himself like the greatest gift. Spreading your legs for him, you can feel strings of arousal breaking and snapping to your inner thighs.
His lips trail down the valley of your breasts and your breath becomes caught in your chest. His thumbs flick at your nipples as he takes his time, kissing and suckling every inch of you. "What the fuck? Were you made for me? You're so perfect." He says before dipping his tongue into your belly button.
"Yoongi." You whimper out as your fingers find his soft locks. Tugging on it, he growls against your skin before looking up at you.
"Keep doing that and I'm going to forget this whole love making thing and fuck you till your bow legged." He promises and you tug gently at his hair with a giggle.
He rolls his eyes in response but you don't miss the smirk he gives. He shoves your legs open roughly and your jaw drops in excitement. He kisses at the bare mound of flesh of your pubic bone before picking his head up. His hums to himself, tongue licking over his lips.
His bottom lip purchases between his teeth as he makes a V motion with his fingers opening your pussy lips for him. He stares lewdly at your cunt and you could see his hard cock throb through the leg of his jeans. "Look at your pretty little cunt. You're fucking dripping." He mumbles before rearing down and spitting.
You moan at the feeling, hips thrusting into the air.
His fingers glide over your soaked cunt. Your eyes screwing shut as he prods at your entrance with a finger. "Eyes open. Watch me." He instructs.
Your eyes snap open as he nestles his face between your thighs. He breathes in deeply before latching his lips to your now swollen clit.
"Oh fuck!" You whine loudly as your back bows off the bed.
His mouth was so incredibly skilled, lapping at your clit with such expertise.
His eyes were on yours as he devours your needy pussy.
He gives a flat stripe to your sex, before showing you the amount of arousal on his tongue and swallowing greedily. "You taste so fucking good." He mumbles before suckling at your clit again.
You keen loudly, hands fisting tightly at his hair as he flicks the tip of his tongue to you. Your body jolts with pleasure as you mumble his name.
Without warning he enters a finger into you. He himself moaning against your sex at the tightness of your dripping pussy. "God! Yoongi!"
He hums in agreement before lifting up, slowly he drips his spittle from his mouth. You watch with keen eyes as it meets your cunt before he's ravaging you once more. Grinding your clit to the flat of his tongue, you feel white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins. Your skin feels aflame, your stomach tightens as you course towards the precipice.
He curls his finger inside of you before slipping in another easily. "God look at you, so eager to cum for me, little one. So gorgeous." He praises and you whine as he lets you ride his tongue again.
He could feel his cock begging to be released from the confines of his jeans. Straining so tightly to the fabric as he precums at the sight of you losing all semblance of reality. You were gorgeously fucked out beneath him, cheeks tinged pink with arousal. He feels something stirring in his gut, something completely different than arousal. An emotion that sends him aflutter and he wonders if he's catching real, true feelings for you.
"Cum for me, baby. Cum on my tongue."
Tugging on his hair harder, he groans against you. The vibration shoots through you as your eyes become spotty. Gasping for air, you babble his name as the tightness within you is almost too much to take. It's the image of him as he picks up his head that makes you lose it. Lips, cheeks and chin coated thickly in your arousal and you careen over the precipice as his fingers lovingly strike the soft bunch of nerves inside of you.
You see stars as you orgasm. Hips undulating violently as your ears ring with white noise. "Goddamn." You hear from him faintly as your thighs shake.
He watches you lay so fucked out beneath him and he smiles. Yeah. He's caught fucking feelings. Moving up your body, he presses gentle kisses to your nipples before kissing you.
Your first kiss together is wildly heated. Tongues lashing over one anothers as he caresses your cheek with his thumb. You can taste your arousal on his tongue and you whimper against him as he flips you over easily. "You're so fucking pretty." He murmurs with wonder.
Your legs straddle over him and you barely notice his hand creeping down your stomach. He rears back before slapping your pussy hard. You writhe with overstimulation, gasping loudly as your thighs lock. "Had to." He jokes before hooking his hand around your neck and pulling you down for a kiss.
The kiss is languid now, tongues exploring each other's mouths as you unbutton his jeans. The sound of the zipper sounds so loud in the silent room and it fills you with gusto for what's to come next.
He doesn't break the kiss as he shoves his pants down roughly. He sighs loudly into your mouth as his cock springs free from the confines of his jeans and briefs.
You've been dying to see his cock in person. And boy, does it not disappoint. You practically gape at the size and thickness. Rose colored veins meet your gaze on his length and you find yourself practically drooling at the sight. His bulbous head is a mean shade of red as it weeps precum begging to be touched. "All for you." He says as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip.
"Me and every other porn star." You joke and he clicks his teeth at your words.
"I don't want them like I want you. I've never wanted to feel a body like yours in years. You're special to me, don't you get that? You make me feel shit. You make me cum. Nobody does that anymore, baby." Your eyes greet his as he speaks. And, you watch him earnestly pour out his emotions. You give him a sweet smile before running your hands over his chest.
He sighs at the contact before combing his hands through your hair. "I'm serious. You want me to make love to you? You got it. You want me to fuck you so hard you'll beg me to stop? You got it. Anything. Anything you want, I'm here to please you."
Your heart swells at his words and you smile wider before grasping his cock. He gasps at your touch, hips rutting into the air before gritting his teeth. "I want to please you." You tell him.
"By all means." He mumbles as his jaw muscles flex.
Bending down, you pepper kisses over his long length. Earning gentle groans from him as his hands make a ponytail with your hair. Your tongue laps at a trail of precum as it lazily runs down his length and he shivers in response. "Fuck." He curse before gripping tighter at your hair.
Swirling your tongue around the tip, he lets out a hiss of pleasure. The sound makes your pussy clench around nothing. "Goddamn."
Spreading your legs wider with his hands, he rubs gentle circles onto your clit and you moan loudly as you take his length into your mouth. "Agh, Christ. Your mouth is amazing." He hisses out as you assiduously work your mouth on his cock.
Hollowing your cheeks with every suck, you feel brazen as he moans your name. "Not even some porn stars can suck cock like this. Jesus Christ!" He yelps out as he shoves your head down on his cock. Gagging around his length, he moans louder at the sound.
Tears spring forth from your eyes as you look up at him. His bottom lip is trembling between his teeth as you run your tongue flat over the base. "That's it, baby. Just like that. Your mouth is amazing, baby girl." He praises you and you keen as he pinches your nipple.
You whimper against his large cock, your hands gripping at his terse thighs as he lifts his hips with every head bob. He makes it a point to praise you every time you gag. Show love to your body as you cry on his cock.
Spittle and precum stream over your chin as he begins to lose himself in the pleasure. "God, I've wanted to fuck your mouth for so long. Since you put that selfie up for me. I knew you would feel so fucking good around my cock, baby. So fucking eager to please me." His cock begins to throb as you swallow around him. Trying to get him as deep in your throat as possible.
"Fuck yeah. Let me use you like a fucking cocksleeve." He murmurs out as your nose nestles to his bare pubic bone. He rears back before spanking your cunt again. Your body undulating at his ministrations and he holds up his hand showing you your fresh wave of arousal on his fingers.
"Look at how horny you are for me. Fuck you're incredible." He enters his fingers into his mouth, moaning both at your taste and as he fucks his cock deeper into your throat.
This wasn't particularly love making in a normal sense, but who gives a fuck. Right now, as he fucks your throat you can only whimper and want more. Getting so caught up in being with him that there really wasn't anything but perfection in this very moment. "Y/N. You're going to make me cum, baby. You're- Fuck." He curses before pressing his lips into a straight line.
He tugs on your hair roughly, his eyes still on you and surprisingly not on his cock as it disappears into your mouth. His heart swells with admiration, wiping your cheeks of your tears as his jaw tightens. Licking over his base you watch him gasp loudly and your thighs tighten around his.
"Oh baby. Fuck. I'm cumming! Shit!" He whines out and his cock gets thicker inside your throat before orgasming. His eyes roll back as ropes of cum slide down your throat. He whispers your name ardently as you swallow diligently.
"Show me." He gasps out and you pull off of his cock before opening your mouth.
"Such a good girl." He praises.
He takes a second, blinking the lusty haze from his eyes before flipping you onto your back. You giggle at the sudden movement, a smile painted on his face as he leans down to kiss you. Discarding your bra to the floor, he pecks at your lips.
"First woman in my bedroom. First woman to get me to cum that hard in so long. I got a lot of firsts going on today." He whispers against your lips before nipping your bottom lip.
"Really? I'm the first girl in your bed?" You ask, surprised.
"Oh yeah. No ones ever been this special for me to invite them over. Keep playing your cards right and I'll make you dinner." He jokes as he spreads your legs.
Your giggle is cut off as he enters two fingers inside of you before stretching. With a whimper, you whine his name. "Cum for me one more time. I gotta stretch you to fit my cock in." He expertly curls his fingers inside you and your chest heaves upwards at the feeling.
"You-You never stretch any of the other girls on camera." You say as he scissors you open.
"They don't need to be stretched, they're constantly loose or have already been prepped. Also, stop talking about them and my job. This is about us right now." He says before silencing you with a kiss.
The pad of his thumb rubs over your bundle of nerves and you gasp into his mouth. His fingers begin to fuck you faster as his tongue glides over yours. His taste, the subtle hints of wine and your arousal have your mind becoming fuzzy for the second time. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, arms hooking over the back of his neck as he nips at your tongue.
"You're such a good girl cumming again for me." He whispers before curling his fingers so fast inside of you that you feel all the air in your lungs disappear.
"Y-Yoongi! Fuck! I'm-"
"Go ahead, baby girl." With a loud moan you orgasm for the second time and he scissors your pliant channel open as he whispers words of praise in your ear. Your vision goes white behind your eyelids and you barely feel his fingers leave you.
He waits for you to come down from your high. Caressing your cheek with loving strokes as he aligns himself to your entrance. You whimper as he prods at you before looking up for confirmation.
"Just say the word and we can stop. I don't want to push you too much on the first round." So he wants more with you?
You pull him closer and he pushes his bulbous head past your entrance. Both of your mouths falling open in tandem as he slowly thrusts inside. He was stretching you so open, the feeling almost mind boggling.
"Oh God." You whine as he buries his face into your neck. Kissing over your heated skin, he pushes himself to the hilt inside of you. He allows you to adjust around his considerable length as he plays with your nipples. Pinching and rolling them between his fingertips.
"I'll make love to you for however long you let me." He announces into the crook of your neck.
He suckles more vivid colors to the surface of your skin as your legs wrap around his waist. He pulls out slowly, letting the head of his cock drag against your soft walls before thrusting harshly back inside.
The both of you moan loudly, your hands scrambling to grab onto his arms as he begins a diligent pace. He pulls your face with his hand to look at him as he fucks you lovingly. "You drive me so crazy. So fucking nuts. I can't believe I get to do this with you. You're like a dream." He whispers before kissing you softly.
The balls of your feet dig into his backside as he continues his pace. You can tell he's dying to go faster but he makes it a point to give you what you want. He was truly making love to you, every thrust having purpose and meaning as he sheathes himself inside of your heat.
"So nice and wet for me. So fucking tight." He seethes out through clenched teeth and you rock your hips with every thrust to meet him. He grabs your hands before intertwining your fingers together.
His lips suckle at your skin as he begins to fuck you faster. Sweat beginning to produce on his sideburns. Your hands tighten your grip on his as you lift your hips for more. "I really like you." He tells you as you moan.
"I like you, too. A lot." He smiles before thrusting harder inside of you. Your head lolls back as he begins to fuck you with everything he has.
"Oh fuck! Y/N!" He cries out into the valley of your breasts. You're a blubbering mess beneath him now, the tightening in your stomach coming back in full force as each thrust meets your cervix folds.
Lifting himself up, he watches how your breasts jiggle with every thrust. How gloriously in pleasure you are beneath him and he can't deny the feeling of ardent emotion as his heart strings tug at the sight. "Shit!" He curses loudly before letting go of your hands to grip your hips.
Pulling you down onto his cock with fluid motions, you feel his cock begin to throb within you and your pussy clenches around him.
His hand reaches for the apex of your thighs, pinching your clit skillfully. Your eyes roll back, mouth drooling for his cock as he splits you open.
"You're so fucking tight for me. So fucking made me for me. Who does this pussy belong to?" He asks before pinching your bundle of nerves again.
"You! Yoongi!" You gasp out as your veins pump with pleasure.
"Cum for me again." He mumbles.
He hooks your ankle over his shoulder before drilling into you at a speed that shouldn't be humanly possible. Mumbling his name incessantly you cum for him a third time. Eyes screwing shut as your cunt milks his cock for his cum. "Fuck yeah. So fucking tight." He mutters out as he watches you bask in deep seeded pleasure.
Your cum squirts out of you, landing on his thighs and he growls animalistically before pulling out of you. Flipping you over, he lifts your hips in the air and you can barely understand what's happening as you moan loudly. He enters you in one fluid motion, simultaneously spanking your ass hard.
Lurching forward you moan his name as you grip at his bedsheets. Fisting them until your knuckles become white. "Fuck. You're so amazing. So fucking willing to keep creaming on my cock." He growls out as his hand grabs at the back of your neck.
He pulls you back onto his cock with fervent need, his eyes on your smarting globes and the way your pussy sheathes him so tightly. "So beautiful." He says before smacking your ass again.
You appreciate the sting, letting it bring you back to reality. His hand finds the junction of your thighs once more and he rubs furious circles to your clit. You yelp out at the over stimulation, eyes watering with tears.
"Yoongi! Can't!" You whimper.
"Yes you can. My woman can do anything." He's claimed you right then and there. You allow yourself to be pushed through the over stimulation, crying and whimpering before your simpering turns to loud moans.
"That's it, baby. Good fucking girl." He seethes out before spanking you again. "Let's go for four." He pulls out of you almost fully before spitting on your battered cunt. Pulling you harshly back onto his cock, your cunt continues to convulse around him as he begins to throb harshly.
"Oh fuck. You're going to make me cum." He alerts you. Thighs shaking, you rock your hips back to him with every thrust. Your hands grip the sheets tighter as you cum for a fourth time without warning.
You bury your face into the mattress crying out loudly as he groans. "Oh fuck! Baby!" He yells out before stilling inside of you.
Ropes of cum smatter the walls of your cunt and you whimper feebly as the warmth fills you. He lays his chest to your back before kissing your cheek. You can feel his chest heave for air behind you and he pulls out gently. Pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek, he chuckles as you cream with his cum.
You flip onto your back with a tired whine and he laughs quietly. Bending down, he kisses you gently before standing. "Let me clean you up, okay?"
You hum as you close your eyes. God, hes fucking incredible.
Cleaning you up, he watches as your head lazily tilts towards him. "You okay?" He asks with a laugh.
Snorting gently you nod before looking over his naked body. "Did you mean what you said? Do you like me?" You ask him and he stops his ministrations.
Bending down he kisses you. The kiss filled with passion and reverence. "Yes. I like you. Very much." He replies.
"So...what are we?" You ask quietly as he lays down beside you.
His arms pull you into his chest as he rests against the headboard of his bed. Pushing some stray hairs behind your ear, his lips meet your hairline. Brushing against it gently, he closes his eyes.
"I claimed you while we were having sex and that still stands. I'd like to see where this goes between us. Your soul is so pure, so honest and I'd like to know you on every level I possibly can." Your eyes flutter shut and you smile into his chest as he holds you tighter.
"I'd really like that Yoongi."
"Me too, little one."
"Baby." His voice is loud as he steps over the threshold of your shared apartment.
You jump at the noise, sending your fingers flying over the keyboard of your laptop before looking up. You smile at his figure, his bleach blonde hair falls into his eyes as he smiles back. You erase the keyboard smash before closing your laptop.
"Don't stop on my account." He tells you as he sets his keys down on the kitchen table.
"I'm almost done anyway, I was just editing the next chapter." He raises an eyebrow at you before padding over and kissing the top of your head. You purse your lips for a kiss but he hums awkwardly.
"Might not wanna kiss me. I gotta go take a shower too." He says before taking off his shirt and showing you the wax candle burn marks on his chest. You laugh, rolling your eyes as he winks at you.
He notices how your eyes shift to your laptop as he continues to stare. What are you hiding? "Wanna come take a shower with me?" He asks as he discards his pants.
"Sure."
"Who'd you film with today?" You ask as Yoongi runs the bar of soap over your back, pressing sweet kisses over your bare shoulder.
"Candy. She says hi." He whispers as he pulls you closer to his naked body.
"While she was gagging on your cock?" He snorts into the nape of your neck before swatting at your backside. Whining at the sting, you turn your head and pout to him. He nips at your protruding bottom lip before nuzzling his nose into your wet hair.
"What were you writing before? Take One?" You hum in agreement as he runs the bar of soap over your breasts.
"What are we doing this time? Fucking in a car on our way to the Porn Awards? Or, maybe going on that vacation we won at the charity ball?" He quips and your body goes rigid as he questions you. Fuck, you're acting odd.
"Just fucking." You say, your voice sounding small under the sounds of running water as it slaps the floor.
He pulls away from you before rinsing his body off. "I'm done with the shower, are you?" He asks, finding himself sounding distant.
You shut the water off and grab the towel from him watching him walk away and out of the bathroom.
Yoongi lays in bed, watching you comb through your hair with your fingers and he folds his arms. Your back muscles were terse and he raises an eyebrow as you throw your body down onto the bed as if you're frustrated.
He can't seem to understand where this was coming from. You've been together for years now and every time you've shown this sort of tantrum or distance from him, he's always just fucked it right out of you till you couldn't remember why you were upset in the first place.
You were usually very vocal. He remembers the first fight you had gotten into, something that he still agrees is his fault. He was careless at first, when you began dating. Not really telling you the subject of the porns he was filming.
He would come home with hickies and scratch marks, without thinking of how you would take it. But, he hadn't had to explain himself to anyone ever. So he understood when you finally snapped and cursed him out. You put him on a sex ban for almost a month and he felt like a hollow shell, reverting back to not being able to cum inside of his co-stars for that little while.
Just thinking about it gives him shivers and he pulls the covers over his chest higher. Getting comfortable in bed, your back is turned towards him. "Baby, come lay on me." He insists as he runs his hand over your bare thigh.
You stay silent before huffing out and flipping over. Wrapping his hand around your body, his thumb presses into the muscles around your spine. Kneading them gently as his lips drift over your temple. "What's wrong, baby girl?" He asks quietly.
"Nothing. I'm fine." You reply as you lay your cheek on his chest. He rolls his eyes at your hollow words before tipping your chin up with his index finger.
"I'm your fiance, you're supposed to talk to me. We're in this for life, remember?" His eyebrows raise with his words as your fingers run over the wax burns on his body.
"I'm fine. Seriously." You give him the fakest smile he's ever seen in his life before closing your eyes and he sighs a little too loudly.
What the fuck did you write that's got you so upset?
Yoongi picks at the skin on his lip as he watches you sleep. You've been distant for over a week now and he's starting to think he's done something frighteningly wrong.
He made it a point to tell you that he didn't need to read Take One anymore. That you could pour your emotions and feelings into the story almost like a diary. He wanted you to have that creative outlet that brought you so much freedom.
He loves that about you. Anything and everything you write has meaning, you make it count. And, if you needed to write about how annoyed you were with him in your books then so be it. Vent to your heart's content as long as any real major problems were discussed with him first.
But, God there was something wrong and he knows he would find the answer if he opens up Take One. Grabbing his phone off the bedside table, he lays you down gently before standing up. He stares at you for a second in your moonlit bedroom, watching you wriggle from the movement before becoming dead to the world once more.
He sighs as he walks to the bathroom. His feet pad against the heated floor before locking himself in. Sitting down on the toilet, he unlocks his phone. Blinking rapidly at the bright light before scrolling through your blog.
Chapter 99: To New Beginnings
"Oh Jesus." He mumbles nervously before putting his cheek on his hand as he begins to read.
It's early morning when your husband wakes you up. Breakfast in bed was never his thing, burning eggs so easily as if they were going out of style.
But it was a welcome sight as your stomach grumbles with hunger. His smile stutters your heart as he sets the plate of food down before you.
His touch is warm as he caresses your cheek. The feeling waking you up faster than the strongest coffee ever could.
After last night's ball, how you danced among countless bodies with no faces, he seemed to become reinvigorated. Wholly invested in love for one another.
He watched children in small dresses and suits play beneath glittering chandeliers. Watched their small bodies dance effortlessly to the cords of classical music and it struck something inside of him.
"Little one." He whispers to you.
Looking up from your plate, your eyes greet his. His irises show you nothing but ardor as he grabs for your hand.
Running his thumb over your wedding band, he swallows thickly. Nervousness sweeps through you as his eyes flutter closed.
"What's wrong?" You whisper, setting down your plate.
"Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just want to talk to you." You nod to him, sitting up straighter as you give him your undivided attention.
His hand is atop yours, running smooth circles over your skin. In the morning sunlit room, you can see his forehead crease with tension. It seems like he has something to say and it just won't come out. Like he could shout underwater without any outcome.
He takes a deep breath before looking up at you again.
"I want to try for a baby." He tells you.
Your heart lurches deep in the recesses of your chest. Eyes wideni-
"Oh, baby girl." Yoongi whispers before running his hand over his exhausted face. He has thought about it, surely. But, he never put much stake into it with the job he has.
This is why you've been so distant? You want a baby? Why weren't you comfortable enough to tell him? You could talk to him about anything and everything.
It doesn't seem far fetched to think about having children with you. You were the greatest love of his life, the only love of his life. If it's what you want, then he wants that too.
The thought sends his mind alive, waking from his exhaustion as he continues to read.
Sliding his hands over your bare body, his lips caress your breasts. Suckling at your nipples with the new intention of having them swell for his child.
"God, how amazing you're going to look with my child inside you. So pretty and swollen for me." He whispers above your nipple, his breath hardening the bud to stiff peaks.
With a gentle mewl, he spreads your legs. Eyes on yours as his irises begin to swell with lust.
"Wouldn't you love that, baby? Letting me cum deep inside your fertile womb and give you my son or daughter?" He asks as his fingers knead at the flesh of your thighs.
"Yes! Fuck! I want you to put a baby in me!" You cry out as he begins to smirk deviously.
Yoongi shifts in his seat, hand reaching down for his cock before stopping. God, this was fucking hot.
Then he imagines you, swollen with his child as he lavishes upon your body. You walking down the street hand in hand as your rub circles onto your stomach.
"Oh fuck." He mumbles before rubbing at his cock through his briefs.
Reading through the sheer eroticism you have written, he finds the thought of you becoming pregnant weighing heavily on the front of his mind. Knowing him, he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it until he makes it a reality.
Standing up from the toilet, he opens up the medicine cabinet doors. Rifling through the small objects and toiletries he finds your birth control container. Without a second thought he clutches it tightly in his hand. "Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."
Unlocking the bathroom door, he leans against the door jamb as you lay fast asleep. “Fuck, I love you.” He whispers, before walking back over to his side of the bed.
You can see him staring at you through the big mirror in your bedroom out of the corner of your eye. Shutting your laptop, you meet eyes with him and you both tilt your heads at the same time to each other.
You giggle gently before looking down at the comforter beneath you. You really shouldn’t have been so pissy with him over the last few days, especially when you haven’t even talked to him about why you were so short and rude.
He knows you too well by now, he probably knows something must be going on with you. It’s just all been coming to a head lately, you could say. Seeing Viola and Taehyung’s baby, seeing pregnant women in the street glowing and looking happy. It makes you feel like something is missing in your life.
And, you want these things with him. You love him with every ounce of your being. You should just talk to him, just tell him. It scares you, what if you tell him and he says that because of his career it’s not really too hopeful to have a child. It’s nerve wracking.
“What’s up, baby girl?” Your fiance asks as he sits up straighter. His onyx irises feel like daggers through the mirror and you stand up before giving him a sweet smile.
“Nothing, going to get ready for bed.” He hums to you before throwing his phone on the bedside table.
Rifling through the medicine cabinet, you raise an eyebrow at where your birth control should be. You move things around before furrowing your eyebrows.
“Yoongs?” You call to him as you shove his razors and shaving creams out of the way.
“Yeees?” He asks before stepping into the bathroom behind you.
“Have you seen my birth control?” You ask quietly.
You feel his lips press against the back of your neck. Giving soft kisses to your skin, he ignores your question as his hand runs over the hem of your tank top.
“Babe?” You ask gently.
Shoving your tank top up, your breasts bounce freely before being shielded by his hands. He groans as he cups them, squeezing gently. Your body shudders at his touch, pressing back into him as you steady yourself on the granite countertop.
“You’re so fucking beautiful. I love you so much.” He murmurs against your skin.
Tilting your head to give him more access, you raise your arm to rifle through more of the medicine cabinet. He’s quick to push your arm back down, grinding his hardening cock against the globes of your ass.
“You aren’t going to find them, they’re gone.” He tells you as he rolls your stiff peaked nipples with his fingers.
With a whimper, your eyes flutter shut adoring the attention. Especially, when you think you don’t deserve it with how nasty you’ve been with him lately.
Kissing over the shell of your ear, he holds you closer before thrusting his hand down the front of your sleep shorts. Gasping gently, your hand hooks around the back of his neck.
“Wh-Why won’t I find them?” You lick your lips as his fingers part the folds of your pussy.
Suckling small marks of reds and pinks, you can hear his hum. Feel it vibrating through his chest as he holds you so close.
“Because I have them." He whispers before spreading your feet wider apart with his own. Running his fingers over your cunt, he moans as your slick begins to coat his fingers. Digging into his sweatpants pocket he produces the aluminum packet, holding it between his two fingers.
“Why?” You question him, before biting your lip as he rubs circles onto your clit with his middle and index fingers.
“Because I’m going to stuff you full of my cum and make you carry my child.” He says nonchalantly.
You gasp loudly as he slaps your pussy gently. How could he know what you wanted? Was he that in tune with you?
"Can I throw them away baby?" He asks, his breath fans over your ear before nibbling your earlobe.
"Yes." Your voice is breathless.
Groaning at your response he chucks the packet into the garbage before picking you up with his strong arms. Taking off to the bedroom, he kisses over your neck.
“I’ve been thinking about getting you knocked up for the past few days. It makes my cock so hard to think of you swollen with my child, baby girl.” He says as he throws you unceremoniously down onto the mattress.
Rubbing your thighs together, you watch him crawl up the bed. His tongue laps slowly over his lower lip as his eyes devour you.
It sends your heart racing. Knowing that he’s going to fuck you with such intent. Knowing that he’s fucking you with purpose and not just for both of your pleasure.
“Why do you think I haven’t been shooting all week? I want my cum to be potent for your fertile cunt.” He announces as he climbs over you.
His hands grip at the sides of your shorts before tugging down roughly. Leaving you bare and open to him as he spreads your legs wide. He eyes your soaked cunt before giving you a lazy smirk. Running his fingers through his blonde hair, you can feel your gut explode with wanting.
“You’re going to let me fill your sweet pussy up, aren’t you baby? Let me fill you to the brim till your tight little cunt is dripping with it.” You let out a sob of pleasure as he plucks at your nipple with his lips.
“Yes! I want you to give me a baby so badly!” You whine out as he nestles between your legs.
He lavishes on your breasts, groaning gently as your hips thrust upward. Your pussy clenches around nothing, your clit starting to swell with need. His hands press your hips down firmly to the bed as you writhe beneath his ministrations. He looks up at you, his eyes give a stern warning and you know not to move again without being told. You whimper his name gently as he kisses down your stomach, mouth leaving hot, wet kisses before hovering over your womb.
“Look at you. You beautiful minx, I can’t wait to see you swell with what’s mine.” He whispers before licking from your lower stomach to your sex. His tongue is achingly slow, sending your toes curling as you do your best to keep your ass planted on the bed.
Kissing and suckling at your slick folds, he moans at the taste of you. Lapping up your arousal on his tongue like it’s his favorite meal. Frankly, it fucking is.
"Oh Yoongs! Fuck!" You whine as his arms hook around your thighs.
Prodding at your entrance, the amount of arousal that leaks from you has his lower half already rutting into the mattress. When it comes to his job he can stave off any sort of pleasure but with you, he just can't help losing himself.
He enters his finger into you slowly, enjoying how your thighs twitch and lock as he suckles on your swollen nub.
"Fuck. You're soaked." He groans loudly against you.
Adding a second finger, he could already feel you beginning to pulsate around him. Trying your hardest to not move at his request. "Grind on my tongue baby, you deserve it." He murmurs before letting his tongue hang out.
With a mewl, your hands fist at his blonde hair before gyrating your hips. Your eyes meet and the whimper you give has his cock twitching into the mattress.
"I want it so badly. Want you to get me pregnant with your baby. Fuck me so full of cock and cum." You whine loudly.
His eyes roll back at your words as your breath quickens. His fingers curling so fast inside of you, it must be the work of the devil.
"I'm gonna cum! Fuck!" White hot pleasure courses through you, cutting your nerves to the quick.
Your fiance grips hard at your thigh, his fingers pumping into so fast you might have just seen Jesus as you rush towards your precipice of pleasure.
His tongue flicks your clit at a dangerous speed sending you over the edge moaning his name loudly. Back bowing off of the bed, you cover your mouth with a shaking hand as you let out a sob of pleasure.
He kisses over the inner skin of your thighs waiting patiently for you to come down from your high. Running your fingers through his hair, you wince as he scissors you open.
"I know baby, but I gotta prep you. Your pretty pussy is too tight for my cock." He tells you as his lips drift over your skin.
Stretching you open, he tugs down his sweatpants before sighing at the freeing feeling. Watching his cock spring out, you let out an involuntary moan at the sight. Precum weeps mercilessly from the head as his tip turns an angry shade of red.
Spreading your legs wider with his own, he pulls his fingers from you gently. The loss of being full makes you focus more on his cock. As his eyes run over your figure, you can see it pulse and twitch with need. Your mouth goes dry at the sight, hips lifting off the bed at the sheer excitement of being filled with him.
“I know baby. I’m coming.” Yoongi whispers before running his cock through your slick folds. The stimulation to your clit has your jaw tightening as your teeth grit together. It’s a sexy concoction of overstimulation and need as your body jolts with each rut against you.
Pressing his lips needily to yours, your tongues collide in heated passion. Gripping the base of his cock, he enters you slowly. Moaning in tandem into each other's mouths.
“Christ, your cunt is so tight.” He groans out against your lips as he thrusts himself to the hilt.
Letting you adjust around him, his lips pluck at the column of your neck. “Gonna look so pretty for me, little one. So beautiful with my child inside of you. I can’t wait to eat your needy cunt while rubbing your big belly.” He whispers against your neck, groaning loudly as your pussy clenches around him at his words.
“Oh, you like that so much don’t you? Picturing my baby inside you as I fuck you every way I can.” He jeers as his fingers roll your nipples almost painfully slow.
“Yes! I can’t wait to be big for you. Sucking your cock as you play with my milky tits.” You whisper as you card your fingers through his hair.
“Oh, fuck yeah.” He curses.
Pulling out of you, he steadies himself on his elbows above you before thrusting hard into you. Your hands grip at the sheets beside you, knuckles going white as your head lolls back.
“You’re so fucking wet, baby. Soaking my cock so nicely. Shit.” He whispers in your ear.
The feeling of his breath producing goosebumps on your skin as he begins to bulldoze himself inside of you. Hooking your legs around his waist, you begin to meet each thrust with your hips.
“Your cock feels so good inside me! I love when you fuck me!” You moan for him as he sits up on his knees.
Shifting your leg over his body, he presses your legs flat against one another. Your pussy becomes tighter around him at the new angle as he practically turns you on your side. Spanking the globe of your ass, you moan as your skin smarts with the sting of his slap.
“Gonna take my cum deep in your aching little cunt, aren’t you little one? Let everyone in the street know how well I fuck you to get you so nice and big for me.” His head lolls back, licking at his lips as he grips at your hip.
Plowing into you, your mind becomes muddled. Babbling and whining as he fucks you with every ounce of passion he has. “Rub your clit for me baby, I’m so close to blowing a load in your sweet pussy.”
Lifting your leg, he grips your knee as you press it against his stomach. Your fingers rub your clit with furious circles, aided by how much of your slick weeps out of you. "Oh fuck, you feel so good, baby. I'm so close." He whispers as his eyes flutter shut.
His bottom lip purchases between his teeth as he holds your leg tighter to his body. Snapping his hips faster your stomach churns with delight. Your eyes flutter shut as you lift your hips higher, letting the head of his cock brush against the soft patch of nerves inside you.
He could feel your cunt beginning to twitch and clench around his cock and he curses loudly before bending down and kissing you deeply. Swallowing your moans, he groans against you as the head of his cock brushes against your cervix folds. Losing your mind once more, you grip onto his shoulder.
"I'm cumming!" You sob out as your eyes fill with tears.
"Good girl, baby. Cum on my cock. You look so gorgeous when you cum for me." His thumb trails over your bottom lip as you lose yourself in the pleasure.
Your body locks before going boneless as you orgasm. Sobbing loudly, your back bows off the bed. Ears ringing with white noise, you whimper gently.
"Oh shit! That's it, little one. Your pussy got so tight!" He cries out as he snaps his hips harder.
His hands grab at your breasts, squeezing and rolling them roughly as his thrusts become erratic and out of rhythm.
"Oh God, please give me a baby. Take my cum deep in your pretty pussy. Please baby." He begs as he stills inside of you.
"Fuck, take it deep baby girl. Shit!" He cries out as ropes of warm cum paint the walls of your cunt.
He lets out a shaky breath before burying his face into your neck. "I love you baby so much."
He pulls out gently before lifting your hips. "Keep 'em up for a bit." He instructs before kissing you sweetly.
"You read Take One, didn't you?" You ask, voice riddled with exhaustion.
When he doesn't respond you smirk tiredly. His lips drift over your cheek before nodding.
"Forgive me." He whispers to you.
He sits up on his knees before stuffing his cum back into your pussy as it begins to slowly weep from you.
"I'm sorry I wrote it and didn't explain why I was being so coarse with you." He runs his thumb over your bottom lip.
"I love you, little one. We're perfection together and children will only add to our amazing life. I want them with you, too. I want everything with you." He tells you, onyx irises staring earnestly.
You giggle before opening your arms. Laying beside you, he clicks his teeth before pulling you into his side.
"I love you, too. Always." You say as you hook your chin to his pectoral muscle. He wrinkles his nose to you before kissing your forehead.
Sitting down on the couch, you close your laptop before side eyeing your fiance.
There he sits, beautiful and poised as ever. Sipping his beer, his hand lands on your thigh. He leaves gentle strokes as he notices the attention you're giving him.
Turning his head away from the movie, he tilts his head to you before leaning in and kissing your forehead. You smile at the warmth of his lips before coddling into his side.
"Finished this weeks chapter?" He asks gently as his thumb caresses your skin.
"The last chapter actually." You reply as he offers you a sip of his beer. You shake your head with a smile as you extend your feet to the coffee table.
"Last chapter? But we have so much more to do together. Like getting married and having kiddies. Buying a house and things of that nature." He whispers as he kisses your cheek.
"The ending is perfect for right now. I would really like you to read it."
Muting the television, he turns his body towards you fully before furrowing his eyebrows. "I don't read it anymore, you know that. It's a trust thing for us."
You giggle before putting the laptop on his lap. "Just read it. Okay? It's the last chapter… You might find it...uplifting." You tell him.
Placing the beer on the table, he sucks air in through his teeth before opening up your laptop. "Alright." He mumbles
Your feet find their place tucked underneath you as he begins to read.
There are certain ways that one can feel pure bliss. Whether it be seeing a lost loved one after a long while or hearing a song that strikes all of the right cords inside of you. Pure bliss can come in many forms.
Today was your form of pure bliss. The sex god, your sex god had finally arrived back home from work. Sweaty, with a tired smile gracing his face as he throws his leather jacket onto the coat rack.
Your insides jump with joy, nervously excited giggles raring to pass your lips as he turns to you.
"Hi beautiful." He murmurs with a wide smile before pecking your lips gently.
"Hi." You whisper again his lips before copying the expression on his face.
His head turns to the dinner table, fully set with hot food waiting in the middle. Two candles on either side, picturesque like it was taken straight out of Good Housekeeping.
"Wow. This looks amazing. Thank you baby!" Yoongi claps his hands happily as you both walk over to the table. Usually you both sit at the ends of the table but today you've taken the seat beside him.
Grabbing your hand, he gives the back of it a gentle kiss before leaning back in his chair.
"Why such a lush dinner? Did you see my newest movie?" He asks with a laugh.
Butterflies roam free within you at his question. You giggle with him before holding your breath as he picks up the linen napkin from his dish. He gives a quick glance to the plate before almost giving himself whiplash to look back down at it. Sitting in the middle of the plate is a monochrome picture.
Just a little hint of something white inside grey matter. Taking a sharp breath, he lets out a strangled noise before shaking hands approach the picture. "Oh my God." He whispers before clutching at the paper.
Your hands press together like a prayer as you bring them to your lips. He lets out a loud sob, eyes screwing shut as his hands continue to shake.
"You're pregnant?!" He cries out loudly.
"Yes. I'm pregnant." You say with a giggle as he kicks his chair away. Grabbing your wrist tighter he hauls you up before burying your face into his chest.
"Oh, little one. Thank you." He cries as he holds you tightly to his body.
Yoongi wipes at his eyes before turning his head to you and sniffing quietly.
"It's beautiful, baby. Seriously. You need to be published. Get your own movie or something." Your fiance says as he closes his laptop.
With a smile, you lean your head against the top of the couch. "So what do you think about me being pregnant?" You ask gently.
He smirks before placing the hardware down on the table and grabbing you. He holds you close to his chest and you can feel his steady heartbeat which has become your life song.
"We're trying, it'll come babe." He whispers as he runs his hand over your head in a calming manner.
"I use Take One as a diary. It's there to help me keep track of real life events too." He hums in reply before swaying your bodies in tandem.
He smiles unknowingly as his eyes shut. Real life events? Real life?
You wait patiently for it to set it, staring at the television as it lights up with different scenes of the movie he was watching.
Then all at once, he goes rigid and you give a relieved laugh.
"Didn't take too long now did it?" You tease him as he pulls away from you.
Looking back up at him, his eyes are wide. Pressing both hands to either side of your face, you can see his eyes beginning to water with emotional tears.
"You're pregnant? With my baby? My perfect, precious baby?" He asks and he takes in a deep breath as you nod.
He scoffs loudly before sobbing. He caresses your cheeks with his thumbs as his eyes screw shut. His chest racks with emotion as he bites his bottom lip.
"Fuck I love you." He cries.
His lips press to yours and you close your eyes to take in the passionate kiss.
"I love you too." You whisper against him.
Yoongi groans as he sits down in the director chair. He sips his coffee before looking over the set for the day. He chuckles to himself before folding his arms.
It's your voice that has his head cocking to the side as you step on the set. Stomach so large he's certain you can't even see your feet today.
"Hi my loves." He says as he holds his hand out to you.
You wrinkle your nose, grabbing his hand as you place a kiss to his temple.
"Hey boss man! I'm ready to go." He hears from the side of the set and his attention turns to the owner of the voice as he rubs at your belly.
"Y/N, this is Park Jimin. He'll be playing Yoongi in Take One." He introduces the younger man.
You bow your head to him as you take a seat besides your husband. Lazily he rubs at your stomach before calling everyone to their places.
"Look at us, huh? A director and a screenplay writer for the biggest porn films in the industry. Who would have thought?" He whispers in your ear as the lights begin to dim.
With a laugh you nudge his shoulder as Jimin props himself up against the hotel door just like the first chapter of Take One.
As the scene begins, you find your attention wavering to your newly married husband. Tilting your head, you take in his handsome features. A god among men.
The giddiness explodes inside of you as normal and you feel his son kick inside of you. With a snort, your thumb runs over his wedding band as he holds his hand.
Who knew writing a simple story would get you here? In the greatest place you could ever dream of?
There’s something magical about meeting the right someone. Captivating, even. The way irises flit between one another in a moment of glorious silence. The breath that is held within one’s chest as you stare longingly at the other person before you. Hands could shake from nerves, excitement- both, even. It had never happened for Min Yoongi. Until you.
#take one#btswritingcafe#btscreatorscorner#thebtswritersclub#pornstar!au#pornstar!yoongi#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#yoongi smut#bts smut#bts fluff#strangers to lovers!au
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where are you?
synopsis: you feel insecure with colson and he’s having none of it. (itty bitty titty committee!fem!reader)
wc: 4k
warnings: smut (18+), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it and all that), dom/sub undertones, “sir”, soft dom!colson, praise kink, choking kink.
a/n: this is my first ever smut so pls be gentle! i wrote the reader as small chested, but nothing else is described because ik how annoying it can be when small chested reader starts turning into skinny reader, so i hope you enjoy! please tell me what you think and how well i did because this is so nerve wracking!!! i love you guys!!
“Col, what are you doing?” You whined, crossing your arms over your chest. You were both lying on the couch when he suddenly jumped up and pulled you along with him.
“Wait a minute.” He giggled as he set up his phone on top of a contraption made of random books he found lying around and two tissue boxes. His front facing camera was open and from what you could tell he was filming on tiktok.
“Oh my god, is that tiktok?” You groaned lightly. Colson had been obsessed with watching tiktoks recently, yet he hadn’t been really into making them. But the last time Casie was over, she taught him how to navigate the app and he was so eager to create. But did he have to be eager right now? You hadn’t had a chance to lie down with him all day.
“Yes,” he replied and walked away from his phone to stand directly in front of you, “now stand like this.” He instructed as he placed his large hands on your waist and positioned you to face him properly, taking your hands in his gingerly and putting them by your side.
The first few notes left the speakers of his phone and you furrowed your eyebrows as you tried to figure out the name of the song. “Am I supposed to react or something?”
“No no, just wait.” He smiled, incredibly excited for whatever this was. As the music grew louder, Colson came closer and brought his hand up and grabbed the collar of your sweater gently in his palm. He pulled the sweater outwards and leaned forward to look down your shirt.
“Where are you?” He mouthed with the music.
Your jaw dropped as you threw your head back in laughter, your hand instinctively coming up to cover your chest once more. “You motherfucker!”
Colson laughed and pulled you into him by the hem of your sweater, “Come on, you know that was funny.” The audio replayed in the background as the time allotted for the video was used up, leading Colson to let go of you and reach for his phone.
“It was.” You agreed. “Doesn’t make you less of a dick.”
“You know I love your tiny tits, babe.” He mumbled as he fiddled with his phone.
“You better.” You chuckled and went back to the couch, hoping that your blanket was still warm.
“Hey, I’m gonna post this. Is that cool?” He called out to you.
“Go ahead.” You replied as you made yourself comfortable. “That was funny. Is it a trend or something?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, “there was another audio that went like ‘to girls with anything smaller than a b cup, I hope you gentlemen have a good day’ or something. I thought that was funnier, but I couldn’t find it.”
“Yeah, tiktok’s search thing is crap.” You rolled your eyes. “Honestly, the most memorable part of the videos on their platform is the audio. You should be able to find things without having everything saved in your favorites.”
“Anything else I should include in my email to tiktok’s team?”
“Yes, tell them to verify me while they’re at it.”
It was only an hour or so later when Colson had to leave for something or other, he had told you about it a few days prior but you couldn’t remember for the life of you. He said that he’d be back before midnight, which was code for ‘you should wait up for me’. It was around ten p.m. when you decided that you should probably freshen up and put something nice on.
After a quick shower and some of that lotion that Colson loved the smell of, you sat on the damp bathroom counter and pulled out your little makeup bag that you had yet to unpack after your last trip with Colson.
Makeup wasn’t a necessity for nights with your boyfriend, but you knew he loved how roughed up you looked with smeared lipstick and mascara running down your cheeks. So you put on your heaviest mascara that wasn’t waterproof, focusing on your lower lashes, and one of your cheapest lipsticks so it wouldn’t stain no matter how badly it smeared.
You weren’t really thinking of how you would look as you went through your routine, but more of what would happen when Colson got home. So when you opened your lingerie drawer, full of red, black, and bright pink sets all thanks to Colson, you were surprised to be hit by feelings of insecurity and dread.
Considering the fact that your relationship with Colson was almost a year long thus far, you hadn’t felt insecure or uncomfortable with him in so long. Was it really… No. It couldn’t be.
That stupid tiktok. It was getting to you.
You weren’t sure why. You knew it was a joke, a good one at that. It hadn’t made you uncomfortable at the time. Nor did it now, really. You and Colson have joked about the size of your boobs many times, just like how you joked about how skinny he was or how bad morning breath always was. It was just how your relationship grew to be after you both fully let loose around each other.
So why was this getting to you? You tried to come to a conclusion as you pulled on one of your favorite sets. As you stared at yourself in the mirror and adjusted the lingerie, you heard the front door open and decided that the time for analyzing your insecurities was not now.
Moments after you settled down on the bed, the door open and revealed Colson in a nice fancy looking suit. He let out a low whistle as he dropped his phone and his keys on the dresser, “Wow. What did I do in this world to deserve this?”
“I think you just got real lucky.” You smirked. “Love the get up, lover boy.”
“Yeah? Balmain for next week’s carpet.” He did a little spin as he walked closer. A fitting with Balmain, that’s right. “How much do you love it?”
“Not enough.” You feigned a frown and cocked your head to the side. “I’d like it off now, please and thank you.”
“Since you used your manners.” He smiled as he shrugged off the white suit jacket, disposing of the shirt and the pants quickly after, leaving him in just his boxers. “You look gorgeous, sweetheart. I’d rip that set off you if I didn’t know how much it costs.”
“I don’t mind,” you purred as he climbed onto the bed next to you, “my man can buy me another.”
“Your man?” Colson raised his eyebrows at you, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned. He pulled you onto his lap, purposefully placing the damp patch on your lace panties against his pulsing erection.
Your hips bucked up at the contact and you hissed. “Yeah- my man.” You leaned forward and placed a soft kiss against his lips, pulling away as soon as he tried to take it further. “He takes care of me so well.”
“How does he take care of you, sweetheart?” Colson asked as he trailed his hands upwards against your thighs, one of them speeding up to your waist while the other stayed on its course. Your boyfriend wasn’t one for teasing, especially when he was as hard as he is now, so you knew where his hand was headed and it wasn’t going to take long.
“He fucks me so-” You gasped as his fingers reached the side of your panties, pushing them aside to stroke you gently. “He fucks me so good.” A moan escaped you as his pointer finger slowly sunk into you, knuckle by knuckle.
“Yeah I do.” Colson grinned as he watched your face contort. “So pretty, baby.” He let his thumb rest against your clit once his finger was fully sheathed inside of you.
“Colson,” you whined as you tried to ride his finger, “move.”
He pouted at you mockingly. “You were being so nice just now with your ‘please and thank you.’ You’re throwing around commands now?”
“Please, please, touch me.” He wasted no time in pumping his finger in and out and using his thumb to circle your clit. You whimpered at the attention, losing yourself to the pleasure. He had barely touched you and you were already desperate. “Another one, Colson. Please?”
“I love it when you use your manners, baby girl. Always so polite.” He smiled and watched you carefully as he pushed in his middle finger with the next thrust. His middle finger being slightly longer in addition to the girth of both fingers had your jaw dropping as your head fell back. “So perfect. Look at you, taking my fingers so well. Think you can take my cock just as good?”
“Yes, yes, please Colson.” You nodded fervently, trying to pull yourself off of his fingers. But he wouldn’t let you, pushing up along with you to keep his hand in place as he tsked at you.
“Not now babygirl, need you to come for me first. I don’t wanna hurt you.” He replied as he brought the hand on your waist up to your face. “Can you come for me?”
You whined as your eyebrows furrowed, eyes screwed shut at this point. “Wanna come on your cock.”
“And you will,” Colson reassured you, letting his hand fall to your neck, his thumb gently stroking the column of your throat, “but you gotta give me one before I can let you. I know you can, sweetheart. You’re always such a good girl for me, always taking care of me. Let me take care of you.” He circled your bud faster as he praised you, pushing his fingers in as deep as he could without hurting you to press up against your g-spot. He watched as you rolled your eyes back as the pleasure hit you and he knew you were close.
He let his hand trail down your chest and then he pulled the lace covering your right breast down. Colson lowered his head and connected his mouth to your hardened nipple and you groaned as he swirled his tongue around it. You grabbed him roughly by the sides of his head and pulled him into a deep kiss. With your eyes closed you didn’t see Colson’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.
He pulled away and looked at you carefully, realizing that you were on the precipice. “Come for me, Angel.” He breathed heavily against your lips. And like a good girl, you did.
Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as you let the pleasure wash over you. Colson smirked as he watched you ride out the high, knowing that he did that to you with only his fingers.
“You really know how to use your hands.” You panted, leaning forward to place your forehead against his.
“I changed your mind on fingering, didn’t I?” He asked. Colson was right, you used to hate being fingered before you met him. It just felt like prodding fingers and harsh jabs in a place that was far too sensitive for that. He begged and begged to touch you for weeks before you finally agreed, and it was probably one of his proudest moments when he managed to make you come five times with just his fingers that night.
“Ugh, I hate that word.” You chuckled,
“What? Fingering?” Colson asked as he gently pulled his fingers out of you, knowing damn well what word it was. “But I thought you liked getting fingered? I always finger you so good, don’t I?”
“Oh my god, shut up!” You laughed. “You are a man child.”
“A man child who’s great at fingering.” He waggled his eyebrows at you as he brought his digits up to his mouth and sucked them clean. He placed his wet fingers against your cheeks and brought you closer to him, kissing you deeply. You could taste yourself on his tongue and it was intoxicating.
“Fuck me already!” You whined as you broke away from him. You pawed at his boxers to show him how desperate you were. “Please, I need you. Been waiting for you all day.”
“Me too, baby.” Colson huffed, lifting you off his lap and putting you down on the bed to take off his boxers. Once they were halfway across the room, Colson tried to push you down on the bed but you resisted.
“Wanna ride you.” You whispered and watched his eyes light up.
“Can I take these off first?” He asked, hand coming up to your bra strap, and you nodded. He reached back and unclasped the fabric, watching the straps gently fall down your shoulder. He always loved undressing you, never letting you do it yourself. His hands came up to gently squeeze both your breasts, thumbs rubbing back and forth on your nipples. You slowly reached down to slip off your panties, knowing that Colson would stop you. “Hey, no. Let me.”
He always undressed you, he thought as he pulled your panties down your legs. Why would you attempt something different today? Something wasn’t adding up.
“Lie back.” You whispered as you pushed him down. You crawled up towards him and moved your legs to straddle his hips. “It’s been too long, baby.”
“I fucked you this morning.” Colson chuckled, voice tight as he felt your sopping wet pussy land on his aching dick.
“Like I said,” you sighed nonchalantly, “too long.”
Colson wasn’t one for teasing. You, on the other hand, lived for it. You glided against his length slowly, slicking him up and torturing him at the same time.
“You’re killing me here, sweetheart.” Colson groaned.
“You know it’s my favorite thing to do, my love.” You smiled, leaning down to kiss him. “Gotta remind you who’s in control.”
“Fuck,” he groaned at your words, “you wanna have that talk now? We both know I give you the reins when I feel like it.” He swiftly flipped the two of you over, leaving him hovering over your body. His right hand quickly reached up to circle your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure. “Now be a good girl and ride my dick like you said you would.”
“Yes sir,” you smiled as you got the exact reaction you were hoping for. He dropped down next to you and helped you back into your previous position, but you stayed hovering over his hips. You grabbed the base of his cock and positioned the tip against your entrance. Slowly lowering yourself, you let go once the tip was firmly in place. You placed both hands against Colson’s heavily inked chest and pushed down the rest of the way.
You both moaned in unison when he bottomed out after what felt like forever. Colson tried to move his hips, but with the slight shake of your head he paused. “Gimme a- gimme a second, Mr. Monster Cock.”
“After all this time, sweetheart?” He smirked.
“You say that every time, Colson.” You laughed as you tried to relax. “Okay.” You nodded as you slowly lifted yourself off his hips, pausing at the tip and then lowering yourself a little faster than before. “Feels bigger every time. You’re not taking those penis enlargement pills, are you?” You knew you were only stroking his ego at this point, but his face was worth it.
“They should probably use me for their ads.”
“They’d sell out too fast.” You groaned, your eyes fluttering shut. “I should ride you more often.”
“You don’t like it when I’m in control?” He asked, head rolling back and accentuating his adam’s apple. He opened his eyes and placed his palm against your throat again, warning you.
“Love it when you’re in control, baby.” You hummed. “But I gotta say, watching you from this angle is the closest thing I’ve ever seen to heaven.”
“Good answer.” He chuckled, letting his hand slip down to your chest. Before he could even try to hold you, you grabbed his hand and pushed it against the bed, holding it there.
It finally clicked in Colson’s head as he saw the sweater you were wearing earlier that morning hung up behind the door. You had barely let him touch you today after he filmed that stupid tiktok. Oh fuck no, this wasn’t gonna happen on his watch.
He sat up with you still in his lap and grabbed both of your hands. “What are you doing, y/n?” His tone and the use of your name and not a pet name stopped you in your tracks.
“I’m fucking my boyfriend, what are you doing?” You asked, not understanding what he was on about.
“You’re not letting me touch you.” You looked down at your hands in his and raised your brows at him. “No,” he paused, placing both your hands in his left one and reaching towards your chest, “you’re not letting me touch you.” He squeezed your left breast causing you to gasp and arch your back. “Every time I get close, you push me away.”
“I’m not-”
“Don’t lie.” He shook his head disappointedly. “You know that video was a joke, right? I can delete it right fucking now if you want me to.”
“Colson, it’s not about that-” You started.
“Then what is it about?” He raised his brows at you. “You’re not letting me enjoy what’s mine.” He pinched your nipple hard and watched as you arched your back again. “You are mine. And I like to enjoy what's mine. These are mine. I like to kiss them,” he leaned down to do just that, “I like to bite them,” he gently nipped against the soft skin of your breast. “And I fucking love marking them.” He sucked a spot right next to your nipple, pulling away only when he was sure it would be dark enough to show. “Don’t stop me from enjoying what’s mine, you understand?”
“Yes sir.” You nodded, wrists still held in his left hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t about the video, I promise.”
“Shh,” he pressed his lips against yours to silence you, “we’ll talk about it later. We’re not having any important conversations when you’re squeezing my dick like that, sweetheart.”
“Like,” you paused to clench your inner walls, “that?”
“Oh fuck!” Colson choked out, thrusting his hips up roughly. “Darling, I think you should let me handle this now.”
“I’m all yours,” you breathed.
As soon as the words left your mouth, Colson let himself go. He didn’t even bother flipping you over, he just took control with you on top. He grabbed you by the hips and simply used you.
You tried to sneak your hand down to give your sweet spot some attention, but Colson’s growl stopped you. “Be patient, baby.”
The thrusts were no longer consistent as his hips stuttered, telling you that he was close. “Colson,” you whined, “please.”
He paused and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he saw how wrecked you looked. Tears leaving black trails of watery mascara down your cheeks, and lipstick smeared to one side, probably because of how he flipped you over that first time. He could see how desperate you were and he wanted to be the solution. He needed to be the solution.
Reaching down slowly, taking his time trailing your body as he went, Colson circled his finger against your clit and began to thrust ever so slowly. It took so much effort to maintain his slow pace, but anything was worth it when it came to you. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He asked as he focused on your blissed out face. “Beautiful and mine. All mine.”
“Yours,” you nodded as you squeezed your eyes shut. “So close, Colson. I’m so-”
“Let go for me, baby.”
With a high pitched moan, you let go. You spasmed on his cock, milking it and making it incredibly difficult for him not to blow his load right then and there.
As you started to wilt against him, you felt him slowly pulling out of you. “But you-”
“Wanna- Oh fuck… Wanna come on your tits.” He groaned, pumping himself as soon as he was out of you. You quickly laid down on the bed and pushed out your chest. He brought his knees to either side of waist and placed the hand that wasn’t working his cock around your throat. “Mine.”
“Yours.” You gasped. With a few more pumps, his head was rolling back and he was painting your chest.
He panted heavily as he came down from his high, eyes still tightly closed. When he finally opened them, he smiled lazily. “Look at you, covered in my load. So pretty, baby.” He reached down and rubbed the seed into your skin and against your nipples. Leaning down, he placed a kiss on your forehead and sagged against you for a moment.
After his breather, he sat back up and headed to the bathroom, tossing a ‘be right back’ over his shoulder. You were left alone in the bedroom for a minute, hearing the water running in the bathroom reminding you that you need to pee.
You weren’t entirely sure where the sudden insecurity came from tonight. Not that you weren’t ever insecure about your body, but never during sex and definitely never with Colson. You sat up on the bed and stared at the open bathroom door where your boyfriend was. He had only ever made you feel loved and gorgeous. Maybe his obvious acknowledgment to your lack of cup size did make you question. Question your worthiness of him. He was obviously well endowed, and most people knew that. You chuckled lightly as you remembered the stupid cock sock.
Maybe it made you feel a little less than, you thought as you walked towards the bathroom. You walked in and let your fingers trail against Colson’s shoulder as you passed him at the sink to do your business.
You watched him as he grabbed a towel and ran it under the warm water. You quickly finished and sat on the bathroom counter in front of him. He slowly wiped away at your chest with the damp cloth, being gentle against the soft skin.
But here he is. Caring for you. Loving on you. Loving you. You almost laughed out loud at yourself for questioning his love or your worthiness when he was so obviously devoted to you of his own accord.
“I love you.” You broke the silence.
“I love you, too.” Colson looked up at you, slightly shocked and confused. You had both already said the ‘L-word’ a while ago, but you usually kept the love confessions in dark rooms and not in the harsh bathroom light. “Was I too-”
“No.” You shook your head as he reached for your pack of makeup wipes behind you. “No, you always take care of me so well.”
You went quiet again, before you opened your mouth to speak at the same time that he did. He paused and waited for you to speak, but when you didn’t, he started again.
“If that video bothered you, you should have told me y/n. I’m sorry I made you feel insecure, but next time you gotta tell me before it escalates.” He spoke softly as he pulled a wipe out of the pack and cleaned up your face. “I love you. That includes every part of you.”
“I’m sorry, I promise it wasn’t the stupid video. It was actually really funny.” You chuckled. “I don’t know what hit me. When I was getting ready before you came, I just looked down at my drawer and felt so stupid. I felt like I was pretending to be sexy for you. Like- Like I was convincing myself all this time that this turned you on when there’s no way it could.” He opened his mouth but you looked at him and he paused. “But I know that that isn’t true. And I’m sorry for doing that back there.”
“I swear to god y/n, if you apologize one more time-”
You laughed, placing your hand on his chest. “I’m so- I’m not! I’m not sorry!”
“You aren’t,” he nodded, his eyes meeting yours so that you knew he was being serious, “because you have nothing to be sorry for. And I know that if I apologize again, this is never gonna end. I love you, and you are so sexy, and I am the world’s luckiest man because you’re all mine.”
“Yeah, you are.” You giggled and smiled as he rolled his eyes.
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—amortentia.
⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader
⟶ genre: hogwarts/harry potter au / enemies-to-lovers + fluff
⟶ words: 5,486
⟶ rating: pg-13
⟶ summary: jungkook loves everything strawberry but the simple pleasure is always kept hidden, stowed away as if some hideous secret to protect the rumours that had built up around him — until a love potion outs him.
⟶ disclaimer: this is a repost of an old fic from my old blog since i know some of you were asking about it! i hope you enjoy!!
Jungkook loves strawberries.
He remembers fondly the warm summers as a child when he would go strawberry picking with his grandmother, and revels in the taste and the memory each time he bites into a fresh berry, the juices coating his tongue in sickly sweetness; he likes the smell of all the lotions and lip balms, candles and fragrances, that carried notes of the red fruit in comforting wafts, remembering distantly a time when his mother’s fruity perfume would breathe warm life into his cold house in the middle of a dull winter; he remembers sentimental times spent at the local cafe near his home, loving and basking in the way the homely and warm aroma of a freshly baked pie and the sugary tartness of strawberry lemonade would fill his nostrils and consume his senses, leaving his mouth watering.
Jungkook loves everything strawberry but the simple pleasure is always kept hidden, stowed away as if some hideous secret to protect the rumours that had built up around him.
Ask any girl that thought Jeon Jungkook is handsome or any boy that thought Jungkook is a god and they would say he smells like the purest form of any man with a harmonious scent of musk, cedar wood, and oak; like fresh rain that soaked in the middle of a mossy forest, spices, and black coffee — but they couldn’t have been more wrong. Maybe he did smell of musk or wood or rain when he was continuously outside, practicing every moment he had with his Quidditch team, but Jungkook was more than just that. Really, though, it made sense as to why people thought that way about him when he had left such a lingering impression on the school.
You can still remember the very first day you saw him; the very moment you had, from your spot in line in front of the Sorting Hat on the first day as a first year, saw the stoic boy step forward. Made up of a nervous face and obsidian locks that fell into his equally dark eyes, the Hat had instantly deemed the boy a Ravenclaw — and perhaps the house’s reputation was what added to his mystique and strange charm. Even then, from what you observed, he had been a silent boy, making his way to and from classes usually alone, and somehow ignoring the gaggle of girls (from all years and from all houses) that trailed along behind him, giggling and clamouring over how cute he is.
As the months went on, you never witnessed much change in Jungkook safe for the friends he suddenly made in the first half of second year (a surprising mix of Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, and Slytherins) and the smug attitude he began to develop. A rebel, they said, a bad boy at heart, the very antithesis of Ravenclaws. Someone all the girls craved for and all the boys yearned to be. And while you tried to assume that perhaps there was more to the boy than meets the eye — that maybe he was built on different layers you could one day explore — when he begins to become too conceited with the way he is praised, you grow disenchanted by him and his cocky smirks. Yet, for some reason, he finds it necessary to go out of his way to talk to you no matter what — and you were quick to learn to despise him and his constant mocking, all possibilities of trying to get to know him diffused.
In first year, you had to endure a whole semester worth of Jungkook tugging at your hair when he sat behind you in Charms class. In second year, an unspoken rivalry began in which the two of you would compete to see who could earn the better grades. You can’t quite pinpoint when or where the hatred for one another began, but the irritation that comes as a result of it only grows more adamant with each passing day.
In third year, you distinctly remember being confined to the many dusty oak shelves and rows of leather bound books in the library, your eyes constantly flickering to the ornate grandfather clock nearby you as you wait alone. An agreed time of 6 pm to meet in the library after dinner to work on a partnered assignment had otherwise vanished from the boy’s memory. Had it been up to you to decide what partner you wanted, you would have much rather preferred to pick one of your friends and not the Ravenclaw who was fifteen minutes late. With the project due in two days, and with the nearly three weeks you had to finish it, you had constantly asked to meet with Jungkook to work on it and each time he had made a different excuse.
As time crept on and the waning hours of the daylight dwindled to a dull darkness, twenty minutes would pass and it was then that you would grudgingly begin packing your belongings. The wait was not worth the trouble. Yet just as you are standing from your seat, the boy waltzes into view, coming to a nonchalant halt in front of you and placing his bag on the table, as if he didn’t know how late he is. He has abandoned his robe to wear only a grey fleece pullover on top of his white button up, his torn up Converse shoes ruining the uniform outfit with his casual flare. Your stare flickers up to meet his smug face and a frown forms on yours as you spot the other third year Slytherin girl giggling a flirtatious goodbye to the boy who winks in response. Finally, he turns to look at you.
“You’re leaving already?” Jungkook asks. “I just got here.”
“Twenty minutes later, Jeon,” You snap.
The boy quirks a brow, twisting around in his spot to look at the clock. “I could have sworn you said we should meet at six-thirty. I’m ten minutes early.”
“I remember saying six o’clock,” You say. “As well as you telling me that six was perfectly fine. Look, History of Magic isn’t my favourite either but I would appreciate it if you at least put some effort into the class and this project.”
“Shh!”
The hiss that comes from the student studying near you only makes you scowl. You turn around hotly to continue shoving your books and papers into your backpack.
“I was busy,” Jungkook says.
“Busy flirting with every living thing?” You asks.
“What?” Confusion paints his face, and then he is shaking his head furiously. “No!”
Your eyes narrow into a scrutinizing glare. You point over your shoulder at the same Slytherin girl who is still within the library, standing just a few feet away from the pair of you. She has an opened book in her hands in an attempt to look distracted but her eyes are fixated solely on Jungkook. When she catches Jungkook staring, his gaze lifting over your shoulder, she hurriedly looks away and blushes.
“So I assume she’s just a friend?” You retaliate. “You know what your problem is, Jeon? You never take anything seriously.”
Immediately, Jungkook tenses. His arms snake around to cross in front of his chest.
“Well, you take everything too seriously,” he says. “When was the last time you had some fun? Any time I talk to you, you’re always fussing about the work or about how much you hate me— it’s like you’re a walking, talking, breathing dementor! You suck the life out of everyone.”
“Shh!”
The snarl this time is much harsher, coming from yet another student who has been devoting his time to writing an essay. But now you can’t be bothered to worry about silence. You slam shut the book in your hand with a very loud thump that seems to echo around the eerily silent room and fling a strap of your bag over your shoulder.
“Well, I’m sorry that I, and this assignment, are such inconveniences to you,” You say, “but from now on I give up on making sure we both don’t fail this class. If you need me, which I assume you won’t, I’ll be in my room, far from you.”
“Excuse me!” The familiar bark of the librarian’s voice hardly makes you jump even as she comes marching down to the two of you. “This is a library, a quiet place to study. It would be greatly appreciated if you could bring your conversation out into the halls.”
Had she not interrupted your conversation with Jungkook, you would have never realized just how loud your voice had risen. Clearing your throat and tightening your grip on your bag and the book, you tear your eyes from Jungkook and stomp defiantly out into the corridors to retreat to your common room, leaving Jungkook alone. He would find you the day after in a sluggish state, his hair dishevelled and his clothes askew as if he had slept in them — or, rather, had not slept at all — showing you all the work he had finished for the assignment the night before.
In fourth year, you are leaving the stands of the Quidditch pitch on a surprisingly warm November evening. Following the slew of students back to the school after a heated game between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor — where the latter team won after a fiery race between the two Seekers for the golden snitch — the eager chatter buzzes in the air. Beside you are your two friends who are, just as many others are doing, whispering excitedly about Jungkook’s role as Seeker and his “amazing performance.”
“Did you see the way Jungkook played?” Hana asks from the right side of you. “How can someone be so attractive?”
To your left, Nayeon is practically standing on the tip of her toes, desperately craning her neck to search the crowd for the boy and his friends. “Oooh, look! There he is! He’s so sweaty! Imagine his muscles—”
“You’re ridiculous,” You sigh with a disapproving shake of your head.
Despite your condescending tone, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder to follow your friends’ gaze. Laughing in triumph with his team and friends, Jungkook stands adorned in the usual Ravenclaw royal blue Quidditch uniform, the robes somehow accentuating his tanned skin and dark hair that clings to his sweat-covered forehead. Since when had he grown so tall? And maybe Nayeon was right — since when did Jungkook start looking so muscular?
“Your staring is obvious, Y/N,” Hana says.
“And so is your crush on him,” Nayeon murmurs.
“Crush?” You burst out into laughter. “Now that’s funny. I could never have a crush on him!”
“Have a crush on who?”
The familiar voice makes you groan inwardly and the arm that is tossed around your neck almost makes you gag. Your body grows rigid under Jungkook’s touch, though he doesn’t seem to notice that or the way you carefully try to peel his arm off of you but to no avail. Joining him is his typical duo of friends. The other Slytherin boy next to Jungkook is the shy and soft Park Jimin, accompanied by their inseparable Hufflepuff friend, Kim Taehyung. The two boys smirk wolfishly down at your friends, both of whom are so suddenly at a loss for words.
“Evenin’, ladies!” Jimin says. “Enjoy the show?”
“We hate to brag but we taught him everything he knows,” Taehyung says, ruffling Jungkook’s hair.
Jungkook rolls his eyes and swats Taehyung’s hand away. “Maybe the three of you can come down to watch us practice one day.”
Your friends exchange glances and giggle nervously.
“We’d love to,” Nayeon smiles.
Your lack of response clearly doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends, nor Jungkook and his friends. As you turn your head to look away from the group, you briefly catch the sudden scent that is Jungkook and your face scrunches. It isn’t so much as gross as it is overpowering. Passed salt and sweat, you can smell something clean like freshly cut grass or some sort of lemongrass shampoo. But instead of telling him out loud what you thought, you pushed him away.
“You smell terrible,” You said. “Go take a shower, Jeon.”
“Always playing hard to get,” Jungkook sighs. “Sorry we can’t all smell like your floraly essence after playing an intense Quidditch game.”
You only hum in response, turning your head to look away from him and his friends. The act seems to earn a smirk from Jungkook and then he and his friends are parting from you, walking back to the locker rooms. After that day, your friends’ profuse pleads and begs for you to come with them one day when the Quidditch teams are practicing would eventually make you cave in. When Jungkook sees you sitting in the stands burrowed in a wool scarf and heavy robes, albeit with a frown on your face and your eyes scanning the pages of a book in your lap, he catches your attention by shouting your name and then winking at you. Seconds later, a Quaffle is thrown his way by a fellow teammate and nearly knocks him off his broom.
In fifth year, you are seated in your Transfiguration class at the back and nearly dozing off as your Professor drones on and on in the early morning about some boring lecture. Jungkook sits in the row opposite you and a seat behind but that doesn’t stop him from constantly trying to catch your attention, whispering your name. It is only when you hear a few classmates near you break out into wondrous awes that you lift your head from its resting place wedged between your folded arms on top of your desk and turn. Soaring above the students’ heads is an enchanted paper bird, its thin wings fluttering its way to you.
You gaze at it for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, before noticing that it is Jungkook who had magicked it, wand in hand as he waves it towards you. As soon as it reaches your table, it floats around your head and lingers in front of your face, beckoning you to take it. Instead, your hands try swatting it away though it doesn’t seem to budge. When you relent and succumb to taking the bird, it is not before you shoot an annoyed glance back at Jungkook. Then, you unwrap the bird in your hand. With thin black ink sprawled out in perfect cursive writing, a single dreadful question is poised in pretty script: Meet me tomorrow at noon at the Three Broomsticks? It’ll be my treat.
“Is that from Jungkook?” Hana asks. She peers over your shoulder from beside you to look down at the paper, her voice incredibly louder than you would have liked. “It is! Is he asking you out? You know, I always knew you liked him. You’re a terrible liar— ”
You gasp. Your hand quickly covers the paper, yanking it out of Hana’s view. “I do not like him!”
“Do too!” Hana laughs. “So, what are you going to say? Huh, who knew Jungkook was so soft and cute? Have I told you how cute the two of you would be together?”
Maybe it’s the way she so suddenly begins to gush over you dating Jungkook, or the way her voice garners the attention of those sitting around you, letting other girls fawn over how cute his simple gesture is, that makes you curdle with embarrassment. But what are you so shy of? You are insistent that you don’t like Jungkook but you were certain that if word spread that you did have feelings for him, your whole life would be drastically ruined. Or maybe you were more fearful of the idea of possibly liking Jungkook in return, even if you had so profusely been lying to everyone and yourself.
“Stop it!” You hiss. “I would rather kiss the squid in the Black Lake than date him!”
Then, as if to emphasize this apparent hatred, you grab your quill and furiously write in big scratchy letters “NO” before crumpling it in your hand and twisting in your seat. Set on chucking the balled up piece of paper right at Jungkook’s smug face, you are startled when you feel the paper being plucked from your grasp by none other than your Professor. She stands before you with a sour look on her face, a willowy old lady with gray wisps of hair pulled back into a tight bun.
“Ah, Miss Y/N,” she hums, “if you have more important matters that you seem to want to discuss with Mr. Jeon, surely you can divulge with the rest of the class too.”
Your mouth clamps shut. You watch, stricken with horror, as she unravels the paper in her hands, her glossy eyes skimming its contents from beneath her half-moon spectacles. She purses her lips, and then shifts her gaze to you and then to Jungkook sitting behind you. The silence that follows as she moves towards him is near unbearable, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat.
“If you would have much rather preferred to flirt with Miss Y/N than listen to my lecture, feel free to leave my class, Jeon,” Your Professor says. She drops the paper onto his desk with a flourish. “Though, it’d be in your best interest to stop your daydreaming and pay attention to my class because I’m afraid her answer was no.”
Your eyes widen as you twist in your seat to look at your Professor and a startled Jungkook. And, maybe, if you looked hard enough and passed the smug smirk, you could see his conceited stare falter as a look of hurt flashes across his eyes. A few murmurs and giggles break out amongst the students, making your cheeks burn hot and forces you to turn back around and away from Jungkook.
“And I suppose that now neither of you are busy tomorrow, you wouldn’t mind spending it in detention with me,” Your Professor says. Then she was rounding on her heel, marching back to the front of the classroom and restarting her lecture.
After the torturous detention where Jungkook suddenly refuses to look or talk to you after what had happened, and a week after the missed Hogsmeade trip, you would find Jungkook walking the halls, hand-in-hand, with another Ravenclaw girl. As they pass you, seemingly unaware of your lingering presence, you see the girl stop Jungkook and lean forward to kiss him, his own hands resting on her waist and tugging her closer to him. Though you tell yourself you’re free from his constant flirting and mocking, you can’t help but feel somewhat let down as you walk away that day.
In the beginning of sixth year, when all the students had found a moment to themselves and a much needed break from all the sudden stress of homework, you would wind up at a party being held in the Room of Requirements. Though you weren’t quite sure how the students were able to smuggle alcohol into the school, you remember drinking until you are blissfully numb and without a care in the world. Most of the evening had been spent chatting to Nayeon and Hana but when they become distracted with flirting with their crushes, you are left alone. It isn’t much long after that you stumble into Jungkook. Drunkenly dancing to the upbeat thump of music that reverberated around the room, you had, somehow, lost your footing. As you fall into the thick crowd, a pair of strong hands reach out to swiftly catch onto yours arms and hold you up. Jungkook’s surprised when you don’t bother pushing him away and let him help straighten you up. Clearly, you’re much too drunk to function, and he makes sure to hold you at a comfortable distance away from him. Then, there, under the dim lights of the room, you are met with his typical smirk tugging at his luscious pink lips (which you find yourself gazing at for longer than necessary).
“Ah, if it isn’t Jeon Jungkook,” You rasp. You sway dangerously in his hold and nearly fall to the floor again. He tightens his grip on you and catches you once more before you can slip away. “What do you want from me tonight?”
“Hey, you bumped into me. I’m just being nice and making sure you don’t face-plant the floor.”
“Yeah, but of course you had to be right beside me. I think I’d rather have face-planted the floor.”
He quirks a brow. He feigns dropping you, momentarily loosening his grip just enough for you to come flailing forward with a yelp of surprise. He doesn’t let you fall too far, though, and catches onto you swiftly once more, hooking his arm around your waist. When you meet his stare with a scowl, he grins. “You were saying?”
“Do you remember that one time you told me I never have fun?”
“Not really.”
“Ah, well, you say a lot of shit to me,” You say. “But that stuck out the most. You called me a dementor. A dementor. My thirteen year old self never forgot that.”
Jungkook winces at how carefree you seemed to say it, at how you still remembered it three years later. His hands drop from you once you’re steady and he runs his fingers through his locks, softly pushing them up and out of his eyes before they ultimately fall flat against his forehead once more.
“I didn’t mean it,” he says. “I mean, look at you now. You seem to be having a lot of fun. How drunk are you anyway?”
“It’s not fun when it feels like I’m trying to prove a point to you,” You sigh. “But I already know you don’t care about me.”
“That’s not true,” Jungkook says. “You’re the one who doesn’t care about me.”
You burst out into a fit of mocking laughter and shake your head at him. Swaying forward, almost precariously close to him, you tap the tip of his nose with your finger. “Jeon Jungkook, you can be real oblivious.”
And then you are kissing him, pressing your soft lips to his. He doesn’t push you away, albeit however incredibly surprised he may be. Instead, as he feels your lips move against his, he finds himself basking in everything that is you. All he can smell is your floral perfume and, passed the liquor that stained your lips, could taste your peach lip balm and the bubble gum you had been chewing earlier in the night. He hates how much he loves it. His hands lift to rest on either side of your face and he gently brings you closer to him, his tongue laving at your peach flavoured lower lip. He hears you moan softly in content as you melt against his chest, your fingers suddenly tugging desperately at the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s then that you realize that all you can smell is the scent of freshly cut grass and his lemony shampoo, but all you can taste is something warm and sugary that feels all too comforting.
You come to the conclusion in your drunken mind that you would have loved to keep kissing him. That, maybe, kissing Jeon Jungkook wasn’t so bad. But then just as suddenly as you had kissed him, he is pulling away from you, sending you crashing and burning down from your reverie. With swollen pink lips, wide eyes, and dishevelled hair, Jungkook shakes his head abruptly and mumbles a quiet, “I’m sorry.”
He flees from your grasp and from the party before you can stop him — and it is in that moment that you began to hate Jungkook, but not more than you hate yourself for actually enjoying the way it felt to kiss someone like him. You would never learn why he had left so soon until much later when he tells you that he didn’t want you to regret anything you did drunk — didn’t want you to regret kissing someone like him when you had seemed to hate him for years prior.
In the second half of sixth year, when you begin to fail Potions, your Professor does what he thinks is best and pairs you with Jungkook, the smartest student in his class. Hearing that Jungkook, of all people, is remarkable at Potions doesn’t come as a surprise. You are quick to learn just why he had been placed into Ravenclaw, carrying their impressive ambition and intelligence. If anything, you are almost jealous of how easily he seems to pick up on things and can reproduce them at top notch quality.
Your friendship with him is still strained and is perhaps even worse than it had once been ever since the night of the party. Neither of you talk about the moment and, from what either of you were concerned, both of you had long since forgotten the night had ever happened. Unbeknownst to you is that when Jungkook sees how cold and distant you become in the days after, he refuses to tell you the truth that the kiss is always on his mind. So, when you are forced to work with him for any assignments or in-class work, most of your conversations end in constant bickering. Miraculously, somehow, your grades do gradually begin to pick up.
One day, when you both walk into class, you are greeted to the sight of a smoldering cauldron placed neatly on top of your Professor’s desk, a beautiful scent filling the room that seems to be coming specifically from whatever has been brewing. The liquid contents within contains a mother-of-pearl sheen and clear smoke spirals from it in wisps. As soon as everyone is seated at their desks, your Professor steps forward and begins his lecture.
“Good evening, class!” he chirps. “Today we have a very exciting lecture that has to do with what is currently sitting on my desk. Now, can anyone tell me what exactly it is?”
A few shouts of guesses are tossed into the air but all are wrong as your Professor simply shakes his head. Jungkook raises his hand casually and your Professor points enthusiastically at him.
“Yes, Jungkook?”
“It’s Amortentia,” he says.
“Right you are, my boy!” Your Professor beams. “Five points to Ravenclaw! This is, in fact, Amortentia. Now, for those of you who do not know what it is, that is perhaps all the best. But as it is, it’s important to educate you on the various effects each potion can have on a being and why someone should, or should not, administer it. Amortentia, simply put, is a love potion.”
Gasps of awe and murmurs from certain students circulate the room as your Professor carries on.
“And not just any love potion — the most powerful love potion in the world,” he says. “If anyone were to receive such a potion, it would cause an intense infatuation and obsession on the drinker. However, the potion must be continuously administered to the drinker or else the effects will wear off and the drinker will regain his or her conscience and free will. Now, if you ever wanted to know how to identify Amortentia, you can rely on its very distinct smell. Differing on the person who smells it, it will always morph into the scent of whomever you desire most. For instance, I smell lemon drops, toothpaste, and parchment paper. You may all smell something different.”
A handful of students lean forward in their seat, desperately moving closer to the cauldron and the potion that carried such charming scents. Despite not wanting to show your immediate interest in something as strange as a love potion, you sit back in your seat but inhale a slow, deep breath of air and the scent that makes your heart skip a beat. It would pose as an obstacle to focusing on the lecture as your Professor carried on, though you find you’re not the only one so easily distracted by it. Halfway through the class, he stops his lecture and informs the students of their task for the evening: replicating Amortentia perfectly with the help of the partner sitting next to them.
So, you and Jungkook immediately head to work, beginning the tedious process of preparing ingredients and brewing the potion. Naturally, your own potion brewing goes faster than others as Jungkook seems to know what to do with everything. For the most part, you sit back and watch, as Jungkook refuses your help any time you offer, claiming you would only just slow him down. When it’s done, and the entire class is still halfway through theirs, you fold your arms over your chest and look up at Jungkook, noting the way his eyebrows scrunch together as he peers down at the glistening potion.
“I can’t smell anything,” You say. “Did you even do this right?”
Jungkook grimaces, though his stare falters. He doesn’t admit it aloud, but he worries for a moment that maybe he isn’t as good at Potions as he thought he was. In the next second, he scowls and shoots you a look.
“What kind of question is that?” he asks. “Of course I did it right! I followed everything properly. It even looks perfect.”
“Well, obviously it isn’t perfect if neither of us can smell anything,” You say.
“Well,” Jungkook says, irritated, “maybe if you didn’t bathe yourself in your ridiculous floral perfume, I could smell something.”
“Me?” Your mouth drops open in an appalled gap. “Now it’s my fault? You’re one to talk. Did you have practice this morning? All I can smell is grass and your stupid lemon shampoo or whatever it is. It’s disgusting.”
The bickering continues on between the two of you until you’ve seemingly grabbed the attention of the entire class. Near the very end of the period, it’s Taehyung who finally says something, leaning back in his chair to look at the two of you.
“Jungkook didn’t have practice this morning,” he says. “He also didn’t shower because he slept in late. Or did you forget that, Jungkook?”
“And Y/N?” Nayeon chimes in from beside you. “Didn’t you run out of your perfume last week?”
Jungkook clamps his mouth shut. Your own heart stops. Suddenly, your face is burning intensely and Jungkook’s own cheeks are pinched a bright red as, slowly, the realization seems to dawn on the both of you. Chuckles emit from your friends as your Professor signals that the time is up. You don’t dare look at Jungkook as your Professor grades each potion, and then anxiously await the chance to dash out the door when your Professor claims yours and Jungkook’s potion was done just perfect. As soon as he moves on to the next pair, you have gathered your belongings and have darted out the room. You are nearly halfway down the corridor when you hear Jungkook calling after you, begging you to stop.
“Y/N! Hey, Y/N! Wait up, please!”
Your feet quicken in pace as you round the corner. Just when you think you’re free, you feel a hand clasp around your wrist and pull you back into a hardened figure. Jungkook. He’s standing so incredibly close to you now, his gaze softening as he looks you once over. You can only avoid his stare, though your eyes fall to the distraction that is his hand clamped around your wrist.
“I really am not in the mood to talk right now, Jungkook,” You mumble. “Just leave me alone.”
“What else did you smell?” Jungkook asks.
His question makes you stop. It’s what causes you to carefully lift your stare to look at him.
“What?” You stammer. “What does it matter?”
“Just tell me, please,” he says, his grip tightening around your wrist. “I need to know.”
You could have shaken your head at him, pushed him away and walked off, but the longer you stare at him, the faster you begin to cave. Your mind is instantly brought back to just moments ago and the love potion that had filled your senses. As you think about all the lovely things you could smell, you whisper the answer in a sheepish voice:
“Strawberries.”
There is a split moment where all you can see is Jungkook’s beaming grin before he is pulling you toward him for a kiss that nearly sweeps you off your feet. You collapse against his broad chest, your hands flying up to bundle in his shirt and pull at him tightly as he kisses you and kisses you. You wonder why he had done so spontaneously but then it seems to hit you.
All you can smell on Jungkook, all you can taste, is lemon, grass, and strawberries.
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a mutual feeling
harry styles x reader. enemies (kind of) to lovers. 9.5k words.
summary/warnings: boxing! boxer!harry x boxer!reader, harry's dad is your trainer, you kind of hate each other, not really, it's not even enemies to lovers they're both just brats, it's boxing so there's kind of a lot of violence and blood, there's nothing too explicit, alcohol consumption, you're a better fighter than he is and you fight and end up doing it, oops, friends w benefits type of deal, he doesn't do relationships but he likes you, oops again, and you like him, triple oops, it's quite the journey but you'll make it.
***
“You look like shit,” Harry greets you when you open the door.
“And you, my love,” you respond with a slight slur, “look handsome as always.” You lean in for a kiss, and Harry gently pushes you away, rolling his eyes as he walks into your apartment. You grimace at the contact, feeling the pain even through the fuzz of the whiskey you’re holding.
“My dad would kill you if he were here,” Harry says.
You giggle, shutting the door behind him. “Well, then, thank goodness he’s not!”
Harry glares at you from your refrigerator and makes a noncommittal grunt.
You frown, suddenly, your alcohol muddled mind working through something. “Wait a minute,” you say slowly, “he’s not here… but you are!” Harry glares even more and walks back over to you. You pout as he guides you to your couch.
Groaning through the pain, you allow him to nudge you onto your back on the couch. “What,” you manage to ask through gritted teeth, “are we gonna fuck now?” Harry sighs, softening the bag of frozen peas he’s holding with his fingers. “You wish.”
He kneels down beside the couch and lays the bag over your bruised nose and black eye. He’s biting on his lip, concentrating and wincing a little bit whenever he hits a sensitive spot and you grimace. He fiddles with the peas, trying to get the bag in exactly the right spot, and you watch his eyes. His green, green, worried eyes.
“He knows,” you murmur.
Harry’s jaw clenches, and that’s the only response you need.
You roll your head away from him, breaking eye contact and letting the bag of peas slide onto your black eye. “Fuck.” Suddenly you’re sober. Harry sighs again, going still for a moment, and then another, and then he stands up and walks away.
“What if I didn’t show up tomorrow?” you ask softly.
You hear him fumbling around in your cabinet.
After a moment, he says, “You will.”
You don’t say anything, because he’s right.
Silence falls over the room, and you’re just about to ask him what he’s doing over there when there’s a loud bang. You gasp, jolting upright, and watch Harry shake out his fist. Your cabinet door is ajar, papers and knick knacks misplaced.
“You promised him, goddammit!”
You exhale slowly, sharply, leaning back as the pain from your sudden movement sets in.
“You promised me!” Harry closes the distance between the cabinet and the couch, throwing your first aid kit onto the coffee table in front of you quite violently. “Christ, you said you’re done! No more fighting.”
You close your eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He breathes a second, and you can hear he’s panting. So angry. “I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do,” you go on softly when he doesn’t talk for a moment. “I get antsy, and it’s late, and, well…” You turn over a little bit, grimacing, and hold up the wad of cash.
“Train!” he bursts, ignoring the money. “You said training! Fight with my dad! It’s so easy. Fight with gloves! Spar! For fuck’s sake, you said no more of this - this underground - rubbish. You can’t be out there fighting random people just to get your rocks off.”
You frown. “It’s not -”
“You’re so fucking reckless it’s insane!” he interrupts, apparently on a rant. “I cannot believe how stupid you are. After all this, you won’t go pro, won’t stop, won’t - won’t do anything but keep fucking yourself up and leaving me to clean up after!”
That strikes a nerve, and you sit up, anger brewing in your stomach. It always seems to come to this with him. “What?” you scoff incredulously. “Leave you to clean up after?” Harry scowls at you. “What else would you call this?”
“I’d call this you getting into my business!” you exclaim. “I’d call this you coming to my house in the dead of night because you’re - you’re worried about me. That has nothing to do with me, Styles, and you fucking know it. I never asked for this. I’d be just fucking fine on my own, thank you very much.”
“Yeah?” Harry spits, grabbing the half empty bottle of whiskey and shaking it at you. “Just fine, huh? Bleeding out on your couch passed out from too much to drink, that’s fine? We have very different definitions of fine then, don’t we?”
You scowl at him, vision going red with anger, and you shout, “I’ll prove it! Leave!” You jump to your feet, getting riled up, but can only start, “There’s the -” before pain shoots through your body and you fall back down, struggling for breath.
“Shit,” Harry mutters. The bottle’s dropped and he’s at your side in a second, taking bandages and disinfectant out of your first aid kit. He pulls up your shirt, cleaning a bruise on your rib cage that broke skin before pressing a soft cloth against it. “There could be a broken rib in here,” he says under his breath. “You need to go to -”
“I’m fine,” you cut in.
He looks at you, concern in his gaze, and you have to shut your eyes.
“I can’t afford it,” you whisper. “Give it a few days. I’ll be able to tell. If it’s really bad… I’ll go.” He doesn’t reply, doesn’t say anything, but you can hear the worry in the silence. “Promise?” he says.
“Yeah.”
He grabs your hand, and you frown, and he says, “Look at me.”
You meet his eyes, lifting your hand just off the couch with your pinky extended.
He links his pinky with yours.
“Pinky swear,” you say.
***
You can tell Des is pissed from the moment you walk into the gym. You can’t even see him yet and you already know. There’s something in the air. Everybody turns to stare, eyes wide, faces shameless. They have a right, though - it’s not every day somebody comes in with fresh bruises and black eyes.
“He’s in back,” the receptionist tells you as soon as you walk up to the counter.
“Great,” you mutter. “Thanks.” You shift your bag further onto your back, heading for the back room where you train. And there he is, sitting on a bench, feet up on a yoga ball and eyes trained stubbornly on his phone.
“Hey, Mr. Styles,” you say cheerily, only a hint of sarcasm slipping into your tone.
“Don’t hey, Mr. Styles me.”
You clear your throat and shut up.
“What you did last night,” he begins, standing up and crossing his arms across his chest, “was reckless, uncalled for, and dangerous. Not to mention stupid.” You grit your teeth, letting your bag slide to the floor and leaning against the doorframe. You’re in for a long one.
“These fights aren’t only dangerous but illegal,” he goes on. “You could’ve gotten yourself jailed or worse. And you know that.” He steps forward. “The worst part is you know that. We’ve been over this so, so many times. And you still go and risk your life.”
You bite your lip and look at the floor.
“I train you because you’re good,” Des tells you. “You’re a damn good fighter, you know that? And it helps you, I can see that much. A right stupid bloody temper, that’s what you have, and if I can save some poor bloke on the street from getting his arse kicked, I will. But if you won’t go pro, won’t do it safely, and won’t stop with these bloody undergrounds I can’t do it anymore!”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper.
“Damn right you’re sorry! You promised me! You swore! Said you’d never go out again! And I had to find out from my ex wife that you’re at a fight? What the hell?” You frown at this, confused suddenly, and ask, “Anne told you?”
Des scowls and turns away. “Her coworker’s daughter’s involved. I don’t bloody know. Don’t know how, why, when - but it doesn’t matter, does it?” He rounds on you, again, and you sigh quietly, exhausted from the lecture and the guilt and the pain.
He must clock it, because he softens, taking a breath and rubbing his fingers over his eyes. “Go home,” he says. “I can’t… I can’t look at you, and you can barely lift a muscle. A right mess, you are, about to fall apart just from standing so long.”
You start to complain, “But -!”
“No. Go home. Now, or else I’ll have Harry drive you.”
Frowning at the threat, and the fact that it worked, you pick up your bag and turn to go. Before you leave, though, you look at him once more. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I really am.” Des sighs. “I know,” he says.
You walk out. Stares, round two, and then you’re outside, and you take a breath of the cool air. It’s October, cold, but it feels good. Walking down the steps, you see Harry, leaned against a tree with a book.
You roll your eyes and ignore him, hoping he won’t notice you.
But he does. He calls your name, jumps up, walks over to you.
“Save it, Harry,” you say immediately. “I don’t need another lecture.”
You see him frown from the corner of your eye. “I don’t… I wasn’t gonna.”
“Save it anyway,” you mutter.
He says your name again and stops walking. You feel his hand brush against yours, like he wants to grab your hand. Against your better judgement, you stop walking too. “What?” you ask, a bit shortly.
“I just… I’m sorry,” he says.
Your brows furrow in confusion. “For what?”
Harry clears his throat. Looks at his hands. “Last night. I shouldn’t’ve said those things.”
“Oh,” you say.
“Yeah,” he says, half smiling as he looks up again. “Oh. I just - well, you’re right, that’s all. I’m just getting in your business.” You sigh, shaking your head and starting to apologize yourself, but he cuts you off. “No, no, you don’t have to - I just wanted to say that I’m…” He breathes a laugh. “I’m available. If you want to fight. When you get antsy. Even if it’s… late.”
You can’t help but smile a little bit. “Are you offering to get my rocks off for me?”
Harry barks a laugh and then says, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Fuck yes.”
He doesn’t say anything, and your eyes lock, just for a second, and then you clear your throat, looking away. “Right, well, I’ll… I’ll see you around.” He nods. “Yeah,” he says, heading back to his tree. “See ya.”
***
Antsy.
The ceiling fan spins around above you, taunting you, pushing hot air around and around. It’s October and you’re somehow hot, cramped in your apartment. It’s a few weeks later, now, around midnight. You had a session with Des this morning, and you’re still antsy. Restless. You could probably go down the street, get your brains knocked out, earn a little cash.
Or you could call Harry.
Grotesque, just the idea of it. What a surrender. You roll out of bed, shove on pants and a sweatshirt for the cold air outside, and grab your car keys. You’re sweating by the time you get to the door, then freezing cold when you step outside.
The drive isn’t too long, a few minutes. The parking lot’s empty. It’s eerie. Des keeps a key above the door under the light. You’re surprised to see a dim light on in the back, and you’re even more surprised to see Harry hunched over a book.
“You’re in a gym, Styles, and you’re reading,” you say, breaking the silence. He jumps and looks up. His eyes are tired. “You’re in a gym,” he says back, “and it’s midnight.” His voice is raspy.
“Could say the same to you.”
“I live here.”
You raise a brow. “So?”
“You don’t.”
“Right.”
He holds your gaze. He likes to do that, likes to keep eye contact and make you think he’s staring into your soul. You’re the first one to look away. You always are. It’s unnerving. His eyes are so pretty, too. If you stare too long you start to admire him.
“You’re a bit early for a session,” he says as you put down your bag.
You pull on your gloves. The velcro is deafening. “I got antsy,” you reply.
“Did I miss a call?”
“No.”
“I’m a little offended.”
You crack your neck, bounce on your toes. “We’re not friends, Styles.”
“Right, I’m very offended.”
You step away from him, towards the punching bag. “Besides,” you say, “you’re too weak” - you throw a punch, the bag swings, creaks - “to spar with me.” Harry huffs, standing up and walking closer. “Christ, you’re just bullying me now.”
“I’m good at that.”
“Not really.”
Another punch, right hook, a combo, one, two, three, he’s standing against the wall, looking very cool with his arms across his chest. “Yeah?” you ask. “Should I try harder?” One, two, you’re starting to sweat. It feels good.
“Should stop trying at all.”
Three, four - one, one, four - “Go read your novel, Styles.”
He watches you for a second, and then sits down. He opens his book.
When you leave, an hour and a half later, he’s fallen asleep.
***
Another week and you’re wired again. The fan’s off, you’re sweating, but not in a good way. Soon you’re in the car, in the parking lot, in the gym. And… the light’s on again. For a second, you wonder if he ever sleeps.
“No wonder you’re so weak,” you start this time. “You never sleep.”
He doesn’t jump this time. “And neither, apparently, do you.”
“Least it doesn’t affect my fighting.”
“Affects your head, though. Explains the stupidity.”
You sigh. “You’re a prick.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“What are you, five?”
You look up and he’s smiling, the bastard, like it’s funny. Which it is, actually, but he’s being annoying about it. When you meet his gaze, he smiles more, just for a second, and then looks down at his book. “Won’t bother you this time,” he murmurs.
“Gee,” you say wryly, “I appreciate it.”
He doesn’t reply, just shrugs, and reads.
You frown, because you’re surprised. Not because you’re upset. Not because you wanted to talk to him. Or maybe you did. The anger is good fuel. You take it out on the punching bag.
You don’t stay as long this time. He’s still awake when you leave.
“See ya,” he says as you walk out.
These late night sessions don’t hold you over like a good fight does. Every week you’re going over there, and every week he’s there, too. The light doesn’t surprise you anymore, and to your embarrassment, you’ve begun to come up with your witty greetings on the way.
The conversations don’t last as long. It’s a back and forth, and then silence. It’s comfortable, the silence, and you don’t bring music. You should. You should block him out, forget he’s there, but you can’t.
It’s true, about the anger. It’s good fuel.
You feel him staring one night. He’s so intense. You think about his eyes, how much you hate them, how expressive they are, how you can tell exactly what he’s feeling, what he’s thinking…
The chain swings, creaks, you breathe in, out, one, two, three -
Harry catches the punching bag.
You pull your punch to keep from breaking his nose. “Shit, Styles, what the hell?”
He’s grinning at you, dimpling, you want to punch him, he says, “Let’s fight.”
“I told you,” you sigh, turning away, “you’re too weak for me.”
“The last time we sparred, I was sixteen.”
“And I’m sure you haven’t improved since.”
Harry raises his brows. “You think you’re better than me?”
“Yes,” you say, “yes I do.”
“Wanna prove it?”
You look at him, let your eyes drift over his body. He’s worked out, that’s for sure, and he’s so damn tall, too. He crosses his arms over his chest and watches you smugly, like you’re checking him out and not assessing his skill level. You kind of are checking him out. The sharp angle of his jaw line probably doesn’t affect the power of his punch.
You break the moment of silence. And then you say, “Fuck yes.”
It takes a second, a second of getting on gloves and drinking water and shedding layers, and then another second of bouncing on your toes, circling each other, watching his smile, his eyes, in the dim glow of the moon in the windows.
And then he makes the first move.
He throws a punch.
“Too easy,” you say as you duck.
“Just getting warmed up.”
“Lucky for you,” you start, moving closer, telegraphing left, “I’m already warm.” You go right. Right hook, for the jaw - he blocks it, of course, and you go under, for his stomach. He doesn’t dodge that one.
“Thought you’d give me a little more than that,” he says, but he’s a little breathless so the effect doesn’t carry. You just smile, watching his shoulders. Broad shoulders. His hips move left, you duck right, it’s too easy. His punch goes too far. The momentum carries him, you hold those broad shoulders and knee into his ribcage.
He coughs, stumbling a little, and you feel a twinge of guilt. Oops.
And then it’s all movement.
He lunges forward and -
One, two - hook left, dodge it, he’s sweating, eyes focused - one, two, another left jab, an uppercut that lands. He’s spinning, bouncing, now you’re the one that’s coughing. No more guilt. He doesn’t draw blood, though, going weak on you. Of course he is.
Amused, you laugh, “Shit, Styles,” and square your shoulders, crack your neck, draw closer, hands up. His brows jump, and he looks just as amused as you are. Bounce, bounce, eye contact, a teasing glint in his eyes.
Here we go, you think, and now it’s your turn.
One-two-three-four, bang bang bang, every punch lands, not hard, go gentle, a knee to his stomach, also gentle, pull him down, elbow to his back, so gentle, don’t hurt him, look at those back muscles, he swears under his breath, arm behind his back, don’t pull, don’t hurt him, he’s on the floor, on his stomach, arm bent, your knee on the small of his back -
He breathes a laugh, craning to look at you over his shoulder. “Alright, then. Point proved.” You grin, releasing him and falling back onto your hands. “I’m not one to say I told you so…”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, turning onto his back. He puts his cheek against the mat, looking at you. He’s still smiling. You look at his dimples, his cheek, and you lean forward, off your hands. He holds your gaze, no surprise there, and you hold his.
His smile fades, and you watch his eyes flick down and back up. You’re panting, chest rising, falling - it’s so quiet. You creep forward. He swallows, you see his throat work. He’s still sweating. So are you, probably.
You lean over him, watch his eyes widen, trail your finger over his cheek. “I hope I didn’t bruise you,” you murmur. He’s breathing just as heavily as you are, and even though he looks like he’s about to faint, his voice is cocky as he asks, “Oh, is that why you’re touching me?”
Closer, closer, your necklace hangs in the space between the two of you. Even closer, and it rests on his chest. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “Are we about to fuck?” He rolls over, suddenly, doesn’t reply, pulls you with him, and he’s on top of you and he’s kissing you and it feels so good, tastes so good, you close your eyes and grin and pull him closer, closer.
Turns out the answer’s yes.
***
A rude awakening. So rude. Borderline disrespectful.
Everything hurts. You groan, rolling over.
The bell on the door chimes again, and your eyes snap open.
You bolt upright. “Fuck,” you hiss.
“Such a dirty mouth,” Harry mumbles, still half asleep.
Scrambling for clothes, you mutter, “Your dad’s here, idiot.”
“Oh,” Harry says, blinking awake. “Fuck.”
You hurry to grab clothes and get decent and run out the door without another word to Harry. It’s cold outside, and you’re only half dressed. You get your car running, pull out of the parking lot, and hope Des doesn’t see you.
When you’re home, you take a cold shower. Icy cold. Your head’s still pounding, but you manage to muddle through what happened last night. Regret seeps through you with the water, and you’re thankful for the heat in your apartment when you step out.
You have a session with Des in a few hours.
Should be fun. Awkward.
And it is, when you eventually get there. A little of both. Mostly awkward. Des doesn’t suspect anything. He must not have seen your car in the morning. You trade smirks and scowls and glares and grins with Harry throughout the morning, but not a word.
Not a single word.
***
Antsy.
Antsy, antsy, restless, wired.
And guilty.
Because you’re not antsy for a fight. You’re antsy for a chat. Or a fuck. Whatever. You’re expecting a few words to turn into a few kisses, and then a few more, and then another rude awakening. You can’t tell if you’re excited about that or already guilty.
So much guilt. Can never get away from the guilt.
You’re thinking about it the whole ride over, through empty streets and hour long red lights and mocking stop signs. It’s so quiet. You can’t get over how quiet the world is when your head is so ridiculously loud.
Through all that, you can’t come up with a single thing to start with.
You used to pull into the parking lot and come up with a nice snarky comment to start the evening out with. Just like that. You’d walk in and mull it over and decide it was perfect then tweak it just so right before saying it.
And you’d get a rush of satisfaction from his reply and his smirk and his dimples.
Not tonight. Tonight you think the whole way over and can’t think of a single thing to say. Nothing to start with, nothing to end with, nothing to tell him or yell at him or sob at him. Nothing. Zero, zilch, nada.
He’s working out when you get there. Shimmering in the moonlight with his shirt off, throwing punches at the punching bag and bouncing around and panting breaths. It comes to you, then, what to say, and you say it.
“Oh, how the turntables…”
He stops and stills the punching bag with his hand and turns to look at you. He doesn’t look particularly uncomfortable. Maybe a little unsure. Mostly smug. His eyes are the only things giving away his uncertainty.
“Didn’t think you’d show up,” he says.
“No faith in me, huh?”
He smiles. “None at all.” He takes off his gloves and stretches, flexing for you, and you let your eyes rake over him shamelessly. “Didn’t bring a book with me,” you muse, setting your bag down. “Then we’d really be, uh… swapped…”
“Shame.”
Your eyes lock. There’s a beat of silence, and you let it linger for a while. His eyes are so expressive. Green, so green. Even greener up close. “So are we gonna talk about it?” you ask after a second.
“Talk about what?”
You debate punching him. Hard. You could break his nose. Get a little blood gushing. Maybe he’d talk to you then. “It’s rude to answer a question with a question, Styles.” He leans against the wall. “Is it?”
“It’s a sign of weakness, actually.”
He raises a brow. “You think I’m the one at a disadvantage here?”
“Aren’t we both?”
“Do you regret it?”
You’re playing along now. “Do you?”
“Would you do it again?”
You hold his gaze, walk closer. “Isn’t that the same question?”
He opens his mouth, then closes it. He grins.
And then he kisses you.
Dammit, you think through the euphoria, he somehow managed to win.
***
It’s not that you expected that it would happen again. It’s not like you were hoping for it to happen again, or even like you were dreading it would happen again. It was one of those hope for the best, prepare for the worst situations.
Three in the morning, and your watch buzzes against your wrist.
Groaning, you sit up and gather your clothes. You get dressed, slip out, and drive home. One icy cold shower later, you’re wishing you felt regret. You wish you were guilty, or upset, or embarrassed.
Instead, you picture those dimples and grin.
You ignore him when you go to the gym for your session with Des. You work out, get your heartrate up, push away all thoughts about Harry Styles, and leave. The ball is in his court, you decide, and you’re not one to steal. Or maybe you are. You’re just too stubborn at the moment.
It feels good to be rid of him, even if it’s just temporary. It takes a few days, a few days of you ignoring his more and more frequent glances, a few days of you leaving as soon as your session’s over, a few days of you parking around back so he can’t corner you out front where he reads.
Then he follows you. He does corner you, only at your car rather than at his tree. He’s leaned up against it when you walk out, and you sigh when you catch sight of him. A sigh of irritation. Because you’re annoyed. It’s not a sigh of relief, obviously, or a sigh of happiness.
“Waiting for me at my car?” you say, walking up to him. “I’m a little creeped out.”
Harry looks up at you, brows raised. “She speaks!”
You fiddle with your keys. “Yeah, she’s been known to, here and there.”
He bites his lip, looking at you thoughtfully. “You know, I don’t know where you live.”
“Wow, you managed to get even creepier.”
“I said I don’t know where you live,” he says, smiling a bit.
You open the door, lean against it. “I heard you.”
“I was gonna visit you. Bring flowers or summat.”
“Flowers!” you gasp. “A creep and a liar. How romantic.”
He smiles even more. “You didn’t show up for a while.”
“I’m glad you noticed.”
“I was getting worried.”
You cock a brow. “Is worried a synonym for horny now, or…?”
His smile curls into a smirk. “That too.”
You nod, mocking sympathy. “Right, right, you poor soul.” You clear your throat, sliding into the driver’s seat, and close the door as you turn the key in the ignition. “Well!” you exclaim, rolling down the window so he can hear you. “I’m gonna drive away now. Nice talking to you.”
He puts his palm on the door, leans against it, muscles flexing. “My mate’s coming into town,” he says. He’s looking at you. So intense. “Yeah?” you ask. “Are you into that?” His brows jump, teasingly, but then he’s shaking his head.
“Nah, I just… He’s a good lad, you know? And he needs a place to stay.”
“Your dad lives with you, Styles, and I don’t think he’d like to hear -”
“He’s not staying with us.”
You scoff slightly. “You think he’d wanna stay in my little -”
“No,” Harry interrupts, “he’s staying in a hotel.”
Your eyes narrow, wondering if you know where he’s going with this. You stay quiet.
“And, uh…” He breaks eye contact, which makes you suspicious, and looks out towards the gym behind your car. “I wanna make sure the place he’s staying is nice.” He looks back at you, just a hint of a smirk in his eyes.
“Styles,” you begin slowly, and then he clears his throat, cutting you off again, and leans back, off your car, standing up straight. He’s looking at the gym again. “I think you need to come with me to test out this hotel he’s staying at.”
You laugh. You laugh, throwing your head back, being dramatic about it, and say, “You did not just go through all that just to get me in a hotel room with you.” Harry meets your gaze, finally, and grins. “My back’s getting sore for all the wrong reasons.”
“Christ almighty, you absolute bastard.” You put on your seat belt, shaking your head with a huge smile on your face. “Fuck you, Styles,” you say, putting your foot on the pedal, “and call me when you figure out a date.”
***
Apparently, the date is a week later.
And a week later, it feels so nice to wake up on a bed. All the satisfaction of the night before and a perfectly comfortable bed to wake up in. You’re more content than you should be, and you have to hide your smile the next morning after round - four? Five? Whatever. The first of the morning. And last, apparently.
He’s pulling on his pants, fixing himself in the mirror, and you’re staring at him and thinking. Thinking about what to say, when to say it, how to say it, whether you’re a wimp for wanting to say it. “So we’re really not gonna talk about it, huh?” you finally say.
He hums a “Hm?” and meets your gaze in the mirror.
You glare. “Gonna make me spell it out?”
“Spell what out?”
“Again with the questions,” you mutter.
“Right, well, I wasn’t trying to be smart,” Harry starts, and you can’t help cutting in, “Are you ever?” He purses his lips at you and turns around. “Tell me.” You’re almost impressed, and then he adds, “Is that better?”
You breathe a sigh, clearing your throat and turning on the dramatics again. Sitting up, you sit on your calves and clutch the blanket to your chest. With your best puppy dog eyes, you gush, “What are we, Styles?”
Harry rolls his eyes. “Mortal enemies,” he says under his breath, turning around again to put on his shirt. “Yeah?” you say. “All blood and guts?” He smirks at you in the mirror. “I think I felt your guts last night when -”
You laugh and cut him off. “Oh, alright.”
A second of silence, and he goes a little more serious. “I hope you know I don’t do relationships,” he says quietly. Your brows jump. “And I thought I was the dramatic one.” He sighs, turning around to face you. “I’m not being dramatic.”
“The hell you aren’t,” you say with a grin.
He frowns. “We’re not a thing.”
“Good,” you tell him. “I’d kill you.”
“You have to tell me if you ever get into a relationship,” he says.
You blink. “Huh?”
“We’re done if you start dating.”
You scoff a laugh. “Um? No shit?”
“And we can’t tell my dad.”
Shaking your head, you hold up a hand. “Hold on, back track. I’ll tell you if I ever start dating, and you tell me if you ever do.” He shrugs and replies, “That’s easy. I won’t date.” You frown. “You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You’re a prick,” you say, impulsively.
“Which is why I won’t date.”
“Some people are into that.”
“Are you?”
You bounce your eyebrows. “Clearly.”
“And yet you don’t wanna date me.”
“Fuck no.”
“Point proved.”
“Fuck you.”
He grins. “Fuck me yourself.”
You laugh, incredulously, and flop back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Alright. It’s off if either of us get into a relationship -” You hold up a finger when he starts to talk and push on, “And your dad can’t know.”
“I’m not paying for this hotel every time you get horny.”
You sit up and scoff, “Every time I get -”
“Every time we want to spend quality time together,” he amends, a sweet smile on his face. You grin and lay back again. “My apartment’s small,” you say. “But there’s a bed.” Harry hums, sitting on the bed, and you turn your head to watch him pull on his shoes.
“Anywhere that’s not the gym floor is fine with me.”
“Ooh, you’ll get to see where I live,” you say. “Should I be scared?”
“For your bed, maybe.”
You snicker and mutter, “You’re gross.”
“So are you.”
“A match made in heaven.”
Harry makes a noise of disagreement. “Hell.”
You smile, reaching over to fiddle with his shirt. “Purgatory.”
“You’re awful.”
“And you’re gross,” you reply with a shrug.
You can see him biting back a smile as he stands up. “Right. And - nobody can know.”
“Yeah, yeah, we won’t tell your dad.”
“No, I mean - other people, too.”
You raise a brow. “Who cares?”
He frowns, turning away to grab his coat. “They might get the wrong idea.”
You breathe a laugh and sit up, stretching a bit. “Yeah? And what’s the right idea?”
“Anything but whatever the hell’s happening here.”
“Wow, I’m offended.”
“Should be. Fuck you.”
Childishly, you stick your tongue out at him. “Fuck me yours-”
“And now we’re just going in circles,” Harry interrupts. He grabs his coat, and you realize he’s fully dressed, and you’re a bit startled. “Don’t be late for the gym,” he tells you. “My dad’ll get suspicious.”
You roll your eyes. “Oh, well, heaven forbid your dad -”
“Just don’t be late.”
“Interrupt me one more time, Styles, I -”
He smirks, opens the door, and leaves.
You groan and fall back onto the bed again, then sigh happily.
This situation with Harry, you think, is absolutely terrible.
***
He is so cute.
Just the most adorable.
All smiles and big green eyes and soft curls you want to run your hands through.
“I think I love you,” you murmur drunkenly, and he laughs.
He’s got a nice laugh. Sounds like music. “Think I feel the same.”
You lean into him, pressing kisses against the column of his throat. “I really think I love you, Harry,” you whisper, and he clears his throat, going a bit stiff. “Jack,” he says. “It’s Jack.”
“Oh,” you giggle. You look up at him. “Your eyes are green,” you tell him.
He smiles again, and he doesn’t have dimples. “That they are,” he says.
You’re at some bar. Two weeks after the hotel meet up. Harry’s been to your apartment about a million times, but luckily, the bed’s still in one piece. Here, there’s music going, and you have a few drinks on the table in front of you.
A few guys bought you drinks. Jack did. He was nice about it, though. He’s such a gentleman. He offered to buy you food, brought you to a table and talked with you while you ate. He pulled the chair out for you.
He nudges at your cheek, pressing his lips to your skin. It’s all wrong. But he’s a gentleman, and boy, are his eyes green. You sway a little to the music playing. He kisses you more. It feels nice.
You turn so your back is to his chest, and he stops with the kissing. He holds your waist, not too low, so respectful. What a gentleman. With those green, green eyes. “I wanna make you feel good,” he whispers in your ear.
“Yeah?” you say, giggling a little.
He kisses your throat, so lightly, so nicely. “I wanna take you home.”
You pout at that and turn around, wiggling your hand at him. “Oh, Jack,” you say, “I’m married!” He frowns, pulling away a little bit. “What?” You show him the ring on your finger, only half processing that it’s on your middle finger and you’re essentially flipping him off.
Your gaze focuses. “Oh,” you say, outloud, lowering your hand and inspecting the ring. It’s Harry’s, you realize. He left it in your room last week, and you wore it so you wouldn’t forget to give it to him the next time you saw him. But you forgot.
“I forgot,” you murmur.
“You forgot you’re married?” Jack scoffs incredulously.
“No!” you exclaim, looking up. “No, no, I’m not - I’m not married. Not at all.”
He relaxes, but he still looks skeptical.
“I just - it’s complicated.”
“I didn’t know,” he says, backing away. “I don’t want to get in the middle of anything.”
“You wouldn’t be,” you say softly.
He laughs awkwardly. “Um… Yeah, well, it seems like I would be.”
You’re not sure what to say, and eventually settle on a weak, “I’m sorry.”
“Right.” He clears his throat. “Me too. Well, it was nice… it was nice meeting you.”
You look up, shaking your head. “Wait, you don’t have to…”
“I think I should,” he says. “Yeah, so - bye, I guess.”
“Bye,” you say softly. “Bye, bye…”
***
What a headache. So much pain.
You groan, rolling over onto your stomach, and look at the clock.
“Shit.”
You’re late. You’re so, so late. Des will be pissed. You haven’t been late for a session in almost two years. You scramble out of bed, downing a painkiller and stumbling around your apartment until you’re changed and about ready to go.
The medicine kicks in on the way, and you’re almost sentient by the time you get to the gym. Harry gives you a weird look on the way, and a bit of a memory flashes through your head. Vaguely, you worry about having confessed your love to him.
You have a session though, and you already have enough on your plate dealing with an angry Des, so you force it out of your head. Des is upset. He gets over it. You throw punches and get your feelings out and set a ring on your finger to the side. You’re not sure how it got there, but it looks like Harry’s. Shit, you think, maybe there really was a declaration of love.
He’s reading against his tree, and you ambush him on the way out. “What did I say last night?” you ask, a bit breathlessly. He looks surprised and replies, “What do you mean?” You sit down next to him, getting your breath back.
“Be honest,” you say.
A smile tugs the corner of his lips. “Aren’t I always?”
“Never. But I didn’t - you’re not -” You huff. “Are we okay?”
The smile drops, and so does your heart. He looks down. Oh, no, you think miserably. You really did. You said you loved him, drunkenly, and ruined your entire relationship. Friendship. Situationship. You’re getting another headache just thinking about it.
“Well, actually… I was thinking… maybe we should take a break,” Harry says quietly.
Your heart drops even further, and you blurt, “I didn’t mean it.”
His brows furrow. He looks up again. “What?”
“I don’t love you.”
Harry blinks, dramatically, and actually laughs. “What?” he repeats.
“What I said last night. I didn’t mean it. I was drunk.”
His brows go down again. “I didn’t… I didn’t see you last night.”
You hold up the ring. “Are you sure?”
He grabs it from you, smiling a bit. “Yeah. Positive. I’ve been looking for this for about three days.” You bite your lip. “Oh,” you say. He looks at you, confused yet again. “If not me,” he says slowly, “who were you with?”
“I don’t know,” you say honestly. “I don’t remember.”
“You slept with somebody?”
“No. I woke up alone. Just a - an awful headache.”
He clears his throat, looking away. “Right, right. Well, you can. Obviously. I don’t - I don’t care. At all. But I was thinking…” He looks down at the ring, at his lap, frowning. “I think we should lay off it a bit.”
“Asking for some space?” you ask, and you’re half joking, but your voice is a little weak.
He looks up. Softly, he says, “Yeah.”
“Wow,” you laugh. “You’re breaking up with me and we’re not even together.”
“I’m not breaking up with you,” he says quickly. Too quickly. His face tinges red, just a bit, and his gaze falls to the ring. “I think… I think we should have another rule. We can only see each other once a week.”
You whistle lowly. “Wow,” you say again.
“Stop with the wows,” Harry mutters. “I get it. You’re impressed.”
“It’s hard not to be.”
“Right, yeah. I’m very impressive.” He’s still looking down. There’s a beat of silence.
“Alright!” you say after a minute. “Alright, well, I’ll see you around, then. I’ll get a calendar.” You stand up, dusting nonexistent grass from your legs. “I’ll doodle your name around each week. What do you say, Fridays? Wednesdays? When’re we doing this, huh?”
“I don’t know. Whenever.”
“Geez, try not to sound so excited.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“Alright!” you repeat. “Goodbye.”
You stand there for half a second, expecting something, anything, and then walk off.
***
He’s not at the gym.
Midnight, a little after, and he’s not at the gym. The lights are off. Ridiculously, you’re not really sure what to do. You give a few half hearted punches, and then leave, feeling like an absolute idiot.
He ignores you the next day during your session at the gym. He works out, parading his toned muscles around the gym and grinning at the instructor to flaunt his dimples. Then he walks out, so he’s gone by the time you’re done with Des.
A week, and he hasn’t said a word. The worst part is that you don’t even know what you did wrong. He’s just scared, you tell yourself. He’d been spending almost every night at your apartment. He’ll come crawling back. He’ll kiss you and tell you he loves you and then you’ll date and everything will be happily ever after.
It’s all lies, of course, because you don’t even know if you’d want a relationship, if you’re ready for that, if you could stand that with him, if you love him - but it’s kind of nice to fantasize about.
You go to a fight one night. You watch. You watch the money, the fighting, watch the happy, painful, bliss on the winners’ faces and hide in the crowd. People recognize you, ask when you’re going, and you say… You say you’re not.
You can’t.
Maybe tomorrow, you say.
But you don’t come the next day. You stare at your ceiling, hot, and watch the fan. Around and around it goes, and you don’t move. You think. You think, and sweat, and eventually get up and take a cold shower.
The next morning, Des isn’t in the back room. You ask the receptionist where he is, and she shrugs. Tells you she has no idea - call him. So you do. You call, and he sounds upset, and he says to come upstairs.
You’ve never been upstairs.
You know where the steps are, though, and you walk up and into the hallway and see Des leaned against a door. “What’s going on?” you ask immediately. “Are you okay?” Des nods, sighing heavily. “I’m fine, but Harry’s - he’s got into a fight.”
You almost laugh. “A fight?”
“Yeah, he…” He sighs again. “A client came in here earlier, hours ago. He was going on about some fight he’d gone to last night, talking about what happened, about… well, about you.” Your eyes widen. “What?”
“Said you wouldn’t fight,” Des goes on quietly. “Started going on about how you can’t… He said you can’t -” He shakes his head. “This is him, mind you, he said not only can you not fight, but you’re a wimp about it, too.”
You can only gape.
“I was gonna kick him out, I was, but Harry… Er - well, they started shoving each other, bloody idiots, and then there were punches and we pulled them apart but they still… Well, he’s got a bit of a shiner.”
“But he’s okay?”
“He’s fine. Mostly.” He eyes you up, looking curious. “Haven’t broken his heart yet, have you?” This time you do laugh. “Sorry?” you ask, and Des smiles a bit. “Boy’s been looney about you for ages, you know. Since the second you stepped in here.”
“I…” You’re not sure what to say. “Um… Why… why are you telling me this now?” you ask, and Des grins. “Wanted to see how guilty you’d be.” You frown, confused, and echo, “Guilty?” Des nods, looking almost smug. “Most people are guilty when their lie’s found out. They’re even guiltier when they realize the old man they’ve been lying to has known since the start.”
“We’re not… lying to you…” It sounds even lamer out loud than in your head.
Des hums. “Course you’re not.” He pats you on the back and clears his throat, turning away. “I’m going out, now. It’ll be for a while. Don’t hurt him anymore, thanks.” He disappears down the steps, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Guilty, yes, and embarrassed.
Whoops.
You open the door and see Harry on the bed, an ice pack on his face.
“You look like shit,” you say.
“So do you,” he replies without looking at you. “At least I have an excuse.”
“Ooh, wasn’t expecting that one,” you tell him, walking closer. “None of the ‘you should see the other guy,’ huh?” He turns to glare at you, and you grimace at the black and blue around his eye. “Ouch,” you murmur.
“Yeah.”
“I’m supposed to be the one getting beat up,” you say softly, and you’re pushing a curl out of his face before you can stop yourself. “You’re too pretty to get your face smashed in.” Harry rolls his eyes and turns away again.
You lean down, impulsively - you’re not thinking today, apparently - and start to kiss his hand, resting on his stomach. He winces, pulling away, and you see his knuckles are bruised. “That hurts,” he says.
“Sorry, sorry,” you say, and go for his cheek -
He hisses your name and bites out, “That hurts too.”
“Well, Christ, Styles,” you scoff, “where doesn’t it hurt?”
He glances at you, a flicker in those green eyes, and points to his temple. “There’s not too bad,” he mumbles. You have to bite back a grin. “Alright,” you say, and you press your lips to his skin. His eyes flutter shut.
“And… and here’s not awful.” He points to his jaw almost grudgingly, and a bit of a laugh slips out of your lips as you pepper a kiss across his jaw, over his chin, and then pull away. He opens his eyes at the loss of contact, pouting a bit.
“How ‘bout here,” he whispers, and he points to his lips.
“You’re a bastard,” you whisper back, and then you kiss him.
Suddenly he’s better, because he’s smiling and reaching up behind your neck to gently pull you closer. Then he’s sitting up, onto his elbow, his hand nudging you as if he wants you to get on top of him.
“Thought everything hurt,” you murmur, complying anyway.
Harry shrugs, smiling more, and says,“The medicine just set in.”
“I hate you,” you tell him.
He sighs, sounding happy, and kisses you deeper. “The feeling,” he says, “is mutual.”
***
His name is Charlie. The bartender. It says it right on his little gold name tag, which blinds you every few seconds when the light hits it just right. He’s pretty nice. You’re getting drinks for yourself and for Harry, who’s supposed to meet you in a few minutes. He’ll probably be late.
“Come here often?” Charlie asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.
You raise a brow. “Yeah. Yet somehow I’m still surprised at how unoriginal you are.”
Charlie laughs, sliding your drink across the counter and getting started on Harry’s. “Oh, no, no, I just meant… I feel like I’ve seen you around.” You give a neutral hum in reply, swirling the ice in your drink around.
And then you hear your name called from behind you, and you feel yourself smile as you turn around and see Harry walking in, waving at you. He’s not late. How nice. “Hey, you’re with Harry?” Charlie asks, sounding surprised, and your smile drops to a frown as you remember he’s still there.
“Yup.”
“Wow,” Charlie says under his breath, his back to you as he mixes Harry’s drink, “he sure goes through dates fast…” Your brows jump. “Excuse me?” Charlie turns around. He looks stunned. Slowly, he hands the drink to you. “Um… Nothing. Sorry.”
“Did you see him here with someone else?” you ask, regretting it immediately.
“Yeah, just last week,” Charlie replies. He makes a face. “They were all over each other.” And from the next expression that floods his features, he, too, regrets his words immediately after they leave his lips. “But, uh - that’s not my business!” he says hurriedly. “That has nothing to do with me. Okay! Well, enjoy your drinks.”
He walks away just as Harry comes up behind you.
“Well, hello,” he says softly, lips feathering against your ear.
“Hey,” you say, handing him his drink.
Your tone is a bit sharp, and Harry pulls away a bit. “Thanks,” he says. “Er… you alright?”
“I’m fine. So is, uh, Charlie here.” You point at Charlie’s receding figure.
“Yeah?” Harry says, an amused smile curving his mouth as he takes a sip of his drink.
You clear your throat, fiddling with your glass. “We were just talking about you.”
His smirk is so handsome. And irritating. Right on the line between the choices of kiss him and smack him. “Oh?” he says. “All good things, I hope?” You shrug, letting your gaze drift around the room. “Not necessarily. He, uh… he said you came here last week with someone else.”
The smirk disappears. He looks down, coughs slightly. “Said that, did he?”
“Yeah,” you breathe, patting him on the chest. “Yeah, yeah he did say that. And now, I’m saying that, uh… that you’re drinking alone. I’ll see you around, Styles.” You walk away, just the slightest bit of anger seeping through your skin.
***
Antsy. Antsy, antsy, antsy.
The fan is spinning.
That damn fan.
You can’t look at it anymore. You roll out of bed, put on some clothes. No sweatshirt, no pants, just shorts and an athletic top. It is freezing fucking cold outside, you realize with a grimace, which isn’t new information but somehow still surprises you.
Soon you’re running, slowly, jogging, and already you feel better.
Really, you shouldn’t be upset. That’s what keeps spinning around your head. You shouldn’t be upset. You should’ve expected this. You did expect this. Obviously he was sleeping with other people. He’d been honest about it from the start.
Regret, anger, misery. Turn it into money. A little cash, a little pain, a little gain. You’re filled with regret as soon as you step inside. People notice you and look startled, and then expectant. They seem to close in on you.
You’ll fight tonight, right? Give it a good show? There’s a new kid in town, better show ‘em who’s boss - don’t lose your throne, rookie - c’mon, prove Des doesn’t train losers - does he? Does he? Are you? A loser? Gone soft, have you? Are you ready? Ready to go?
And brrrring, you’re off.
It feels so good. You’re so numb it doesn’t even hurt. It’ll probably hurt later, though, and you’ll probably regret it, but not now. Now you’re just happy, grinning through the blood, probably looking psychotic.
It’s unmatched, this adrenaline rush. Can’t get it anywhere else.
Well, maybe -
Bang. Right to the nose. Damn, that hurts, but losing hurts more - one, two, three, around the back, pull, pull, make it hurt, like they hurt you, like he hurt you, fuck it hurts so bad, and…
And we have a winner!
Outside, it is so, so cold.
***
Cleaning yourself up is therapeutic.
It doesn’t happen until the next morning, but it’s pleasant.
You miss your session with Des.
***
You spend a lot of time at the park. At the library. Anywhere but your apartment, where he can find you. You ignore his calls. You change his ringtone so you can bop along to the song while you let it ring out.
When you go to the gym at one in the morning, about a week later, you actually look a little worse than you first did. Less bloody, less fresh, less swelling but more black and blue around your eye and cheek.
Harry bolts up when he sees you. He starts to step forward, then hesitates. He hovers by the alcove where he reads, glowing like an angel from the light behind him. He looks so nervous.
“You look awful,” he says softly.
You clear your throat. “Thanks.”
“I was worried. We were both worried.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then Harry sets his book down. The nervousness fades away, and he leans against the wall next to him, leveling your gaze as he crosses his arms across his chest.
“You fought again,” he says.
“I did.”
“Because of me?”
You look at him, sensing a shift in the air. “What am I supposed to say?”
“The truth.”
“You’ve got quite the head if you expect me to say yes.”
“And you’ve got quite the nerve if you expect me to believe no.”
“You just think the sun revolves around you, don’t you, Styles?” you ask with a scowl.
“Who’s to say it doesn’t?”
“Christ,” you mutter. You huff a sigh, breaking eye contact and turning away.
He lets the quiet loom for a moment, probably basking in it, and then says, “You’re upset about the bar, aren’t you.” He doesn’t even phrase it like a question. “I’m not upset,” you reply under your breath. “I’m not even surprised.”
“Good.”
“Yeah?” you say tersely, meeting his eyes again. “You’re pleased by that?”
He shrugs. “Yeah. You know why?” Finally, a bit of venom creeps into his words. Part of you is relieved to hear some sort of feeling in what he’s saying. “Because I’m allowed to do that, to go on a date. This isn’t a relationship. I can fuck other people, you can fuck whoever the hell you want.”
“Have you?”
Harry frowns some more. “I just told you I did.”
“Before that.”
He opens his mouth - and then closes it. “Have you?”
You can’t help but smirk a little bit. “No.”
“Well, you could’ve. You can. It’s not a rule.”
“Maybe it should be.”
Your words hang in the air for a second, and you can see Harry turning them over in his head. His eyes bounce between yours, mouth set in a hard line. “We’re not dating,” he says lowly. “I hope you get that. We’re not together.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I don’t date.”
“Except for the one last week.”
His jaw clenches, and he turns away from you. “That doesn’t count.”
“How come?”
“Because -” He huffs a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Christ. I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer, Styles.”
“I don’t know,” he repeats irritatedly.
“Er,” you say, imitating a buzzer. “Still wrong.”
“Fine,” he practically growls, turning on you. “Because I was only getting over you.”
You smile coolly, ignoring your racing heartbeat. “Ding, ding, ding.”
Harry shakes his head, turning away again. “I can’t do this.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes,” he sighs, “I do.”
You raise a brow. “And, uh, Harry,” you say, “why’s that?”
He glances at you. A million different emotions flash across his face, echoing in his eyes, in your heart. And then, suddenly, his features soften. “You know why,” he murmurs, and your brows jump.
You blink at him, startled. “What?”
“Yeah,” Harry says, biting his lip as he takes a small step towards you. “You know why.”
You shake your head, backing up slightly. “I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“C’mon,” he murmurs, closing the distance. “Gonna make me say it? Gonna make me spell it out?” You watch him, hold his gaze, look into his eyes, and your breath catches in your throat as you start to understand.
“Yeah,” you tell him a bit breathlessly. “Yeah, I’m gonna make you spell it out.”
“I,” he starts, and now you’re taking a half step towards him, “l… i… k… e… y… o… u…”
You can’t help the smile that breaks across your face. “You’re a good speller.”
“A lot,” he adds.
“And now, uh… Now put it all together for me,” you say, milking it.
“I like you,” he whispers, so close now. “I like you a lot.”
“I like you, too,” you admit.
He traces his finger against your cheek, so, so gently. Your eyes close at the contact.
“You’ll break my heart,” he says, leaning in.
“Not if -” You’re having trouble speaking. “Not if you don’t let me.”
He’s speaking almost against your lips now. “As if I’ll have any say in the matter.”
You open your eyes, smiling just barely. “I’ll be nice.”
“You could never.”
His eyes are so, so green. “You’d be surprised.”
His finger slides under your chin and he gently presses up. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Your eyelids flutter shut. “I’m anything but predictable,” you whisper.
He doesn’t reply, just kisses you, and you smile against his lips.
Maybe things will work out after all.
***
la fin 💜
i wrote this FAST haha like in a day or two but lemme tell you i've never felt this way about anything else i've written... like obvi i don't post things i hate slkdfj but like i LOVE this fic. not to sound narcissistic lmao but i'm so in love w this fic it's insane. that being said some feedback would literally make my entire day!!! week!!! life!!!!
anyway thank you for reading ily <3
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New Romantics | Part Three
18+
Summary: She needs help studying for her Case Exercises at the Academy, He needs a date for the annual Banquet... they just so happen to be neighbours who aren't afraid to lend a helping hand, or in this case, a helping kiss.
Categories: Fake dating, neighbours, strangers to lovers, mutual pining, Angst with a happy ending, Smut *as selected by my poll on what you wanted to read*
Warnings: Season 9 Spencer (no Maeve arc), Angst, kissing, drinking, police training mentions, case details, canon typical violence, self-doubt, autistic!spencer, age gaps (24/33), FWB relationships, period mentions, anxiety attacks, crying, misunderstandings,
Word Count: 4.7K
a/n: this chapter covers the whole week from Monday to Friday, thank you @awrfhi for making the gif I used here <3
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
Monday morning she’s in his arms still, and then again on Tuesday; he basically lives with her when he’s not on a case. They make dinner together at night and they drive in together every morning, and they have had sex all over her apartment… and he loves her but he was tired when he said it and in a post-orgasm haze and he’s her best friend.
But he loved her— just not the way she loved him. She was sure of it.
Tuesday morning at 10:53 am, she cracks her fake case. They’re apprehending the unsub by Noon and then she has the rest of the week off. So she heads to the main Quantico building, she gets a visitor's pass and she takes the elevator all the way up to the BAU.
She walks through the bullpen doors and Spencer is sitting at his little desk with his head buried in a book. Penelope sees her first, wrapping her up in a hug that gets everyone’s attention as she rocks her back and forth while telling her how much she likes her.
“You are so pretty, and nice and cute, and your hair smells so good?”
“Thank you, it’s Spencer's shampoo,” she laughs as she holds her back, “I just wanted to come and see him really quick?”
He’s standing beside her and she doesn’t even know until Penelope releases her from her grasp. He wraps her up next, “why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
She kisses him right on the mouth, holding his face in her hands she has missed him too much to wait till they are alone again, “I caught the unsub.”
“No way?”
She nods feverishly, “yeah remember I found that stray hair on the crime scene? Everyone was fighting over why there wasn’t a sexual aspect and I was trying to convince them she was a women unsub when the hair came back matching our victims best friend, who also knew victim number 1.”
He’s so happy, his smile is the biggest any of his teammates have ever seen, he lifts her and twirls her around and no one can believe the sight. Spencer Reid the uptight, overly smart, always following proper procedure, Doctor at the FBI; was spinning his girlfriend around as he kissed her cheek.
“You are a genius,” he compliments her as he sets her back down and places another kiss on her lips.
“I know,” she laughs, “I beat your score by one day.”
“I hate you,” he kisses her again and by now they don’t realize they have an audience. It’s incredibly convincing to everyone except each other.
“No, you love me,” she whispers, kissing him again before they hear someone clear their throat.
“Do you want to help with ours?” Derek asks, jumping into the moment and reminding them that they’re in public. “We’re just doing non-urgent consults today.”
“Am I allowed?” She lights up.
Derek nods, “I don’t see why not, as long as you just tell your ideas to us and don’t file anything then I think it’s legal?”
So she helps and it’s the most exhilarating thing since having sex with Spencer. She’s in her element, looking at small details and making connections that even leave Spencer humming and ha-ing. She has a younger insight than the rest of the team, she’s exactly why they hired Spencer in the first place and now she was shining brighter than him.
But he loved it.
Every time she made a connection or she had a suggestion that helped one of them on their own train of thought, Spencer would smile at her like she hung the stars in the night sky. He was proud of her in a way she hasn’t seen in many people before, filling her heart with warmth and hope that maybe he can love her for real one day.
—
She was possibly the love of his life and the more he saw her work and the more he knew her mind; the more he fell. She walked around his office and talked to his friends as if she was always meant to be there, and a part of him really wanted her to be.
He snuck away to go talk to Hotch, closing his office door as he sat down, “what’s wrong?”
“Y/N isn’t really my girlfriend,” he whispers. “She’s pretending so I could get everyone to stop bothering me about dating, and I understand it looks like she’s using me to get close to the team but I really do think she would be an excellent asset to the unit even if she was just in the office—“
“Reid,” Hotch cuts him off and a smile builds. “I already sent her an offer to take Anderson's job while he’s out on paternity leave.”
“Oh,” he smiles to himself. “Pretend I never said anything.”
“It stays in these 4 walls, don’t worry,” Hotch smiles back, “but you should tell her.”
“Tell her what?”
“That you’re in love with her.”
“I’m not,” he lies, “really, I do love her but I’m not in love with her, there is a difference.”
“I know,” Hotch reminds him. “Did you know that I only joined the school musical to get close to Haley? I did whatever I could to get her to fall in love with me and didn’t even realize it when she did because I was so worried she didn’t.”
“Oh.”
Hotch nods with another smile, “you don’t have to tell her until you’re ready, obviously, but you should tell her before it’s too late.”
“I will,” he whispers. “Thanks, Aaron.”
“Why don’t you guys head out early?” He offers, “we could all use a day off with the people we love.”
When he walks back down from Aaron's office, Y/N is with Emily and JJ discussing how she caught her fake unsub at school that morning. She doesn’t brag, she loves to mention her classmates by name and verbatim explains how they helped her. She is a team player, a genius, beautiful, kind… she really is the love of his life.
“Hey,” he places his hand on her lower back as he slides into the conversation. “Hotch said we can all leave early if we wanted?”
“Sure,” she smiles, “actually, did you want to come with me to buy a dress for your thing?”
“That would be fun,” he agrees, wrapping his other arm around her so he can rest his chin on her shoulder and hold her. “Remember I’m buying it so don’t stress about the price.”
“You’re too nice to me,” she replies.
“I just love you,” his voice is as low as he can make it but everyone still hears.
She holds him back tighter, in a silent ‘I love you, too’ and they hear JJ and Emily swoon.
They’re quick to get their things and head out, she hands Spencer her keys and lets him drive to the mall so she can relax, she’s done a lot today.
She’s so quiet on the drive, she holds his hand like she always does and she just looks out the window, she’s peaceful and content with the nothingness of spending alone time with Spencer. They were always just quiet together, sometimes they laughed till they cried and sometimes he could make her scream but most of the time they were quiet.
“Have you checked your email?”
She smiles as she turns to him and her grip on his hand tightened, “what did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything, I just told hotch the truth so that he could offer you a job, but he already had before I went in there but he’s a good secret keeper, believe me.”
“Oh,” her smile disappears. “So he knows we’re not really dating?”
He nods, “Is that okay?”
“Yeah, I guess we’re going to have to find a convincing way to break up for them and still be able to hang out all the time,” she worries aloud. “Because I don’t want to stop this any time soon, I hope you know that. I really like spending time with you.”
“I feel the same way,” he agrees. “I promise, we can just tell them we work better as friends and they might believe us?”
“I don’t think they will,” she frowns again. “JJ told me not to break your heart today, but I feel like if we break up I’m going to break all of theirs.”
“We could have a fake ugly breakup, and not talk to each other publicly for a bit and then be friends again?” He suggests, “Penelope and Kevin did that.”
She nods, still frowning. She interlocks their fingers this time and she holds his hand instead of just anxiously fiddling with his fingers. She really doesn’t want to let go, and he’s almost convinced she feels the same way.
The banquet is on Saturday, she has one last week of school before her graduation and then they’re done. He thinks about asking her, about what would be the best time to tell her he was in love with her and ask her to be his real girlfriend.
Maybe he’ll do it after the banquet? Maybe he’ll do it after her graduation? He just really wants to do it before she meets his mom. He wants his mom to meet her as the love of his life and his best friend.
He hated many things, but as he kept glancing at her as he drove he realized he hated one thing most of all. He hated that he couldn’t love her as much as she deserved, at least not yet. He wanted to shower her in love, he wanted to protect her and care for her, he wanted to show her off and make love to her and never leave her side.
It hurts, his heart physically aches as he thinks about that. If he had to feel like this to know his love was real, then the pain was worth it. She was always worth it, and he would hurt as long as possible, forever even, if it meant he could be around her just as long.
He held her hand tighter in the silence which made her turn to him, he had no idea he had been crying until she leans over and wipes his cheeks, “I love you, you know that?”
“I love you too,” he smiles but he can’t keep the conversation there, he’s feeling trapped and so he changes the topic. “What colour dress were you thinking?”
The quick-change makes her laugh, “probably black.”
“Are you sure?”
She nods, “I don’t need to stand out beside you any more than I already do.”
“What does that mean?”
She bits her lip, “some of the people in my class are saying that I’m only doing so well because you’re helping me cheat and that I’m just fucking you to get a job… just like I thought they would.”
“At the end of the day, we have a friendship they will never understand, we have great sex because we want to, you’re smarter than me, and the BAU wants you… so who is the real winner?” He’s always going to be her number one cheerleader.
“You’re right,” she smiles again finally, “as always.”
—
He convinces her to get a red dress.
She hasn’t had a pretty dress like this one since her prom and that was 6 years ago. She hasn’t been to a party or mingled with people in just as long, she didn’t realize how lonely she had been while chasing her dreams until Spencer came along.
He was one of the dreams. She saw him talk once, years ago on a school trip, and she fell in love with him a little, even back then. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be him or be with him back then, doing everything in her power to get into the criminal psych degree at her local college, she just wanted to be like him.
Now she’s liked by him.
Every night he goes to his home across the hall and he does his own nightly routine before coming back to her apartment for the night. She’s too emotional to sleep with him today, she knows that if she has sex with him she’s going to say something stupid or cry after because being this close to him without being honest with him is killing her.
Something in him has changed too, he’s less scared to initiate contact, he doesn’t jump anymore when she hugs him or when she smacks his bum as she passes him. Now he’s wrapping his arms around her while she cooks dinner, and he kisses her cheek randomly when they’re in public.
He tells her that he loves her.
She’s confused and she has no one to talk to about it.
She lays back against her pillows and closes her eyes, she knows she’s going to cry soon, and she doesn’t know what to do because she doesn’t want to cry in front of him and he would be upset if she told him to not come back tonight.
The stress of the situation just makes her cry more as she stresses herself into another anxiety attack, much like the first night she talked to him. She just lets it happen, the anxiety in her stomach builds and the tears slip past her eyes and suddenly she’s sobbing into her pillow hard enough that she doesn’t hear him come back.
She jumps at the feeling of his hand on her back as he sits on the edge of the bed, “what’s wrong?”
She just sits up and hugs him, and he hugs her back and they stay there like that for a while. When she calms down, she pulls back from him and wipes her eyes, “my period is coming.” She’s not really lying, and he believes her.
“Does it normally make you this emotional?”
He’s never really experienced her mood swings, he has no idea what he’s in for, she nods. “Yeah, and I have really bad anxiety which just gets worse around this time.”
“And you’re not on anything?”
She shakes her head, “I’m waiting to get onto the good healthcare when I get a job with the bureau, I can’t afford to work and go to school, I’m glad I had enough scholarship money left to rent this place long enough to go to the academy.”
“Oh.”
She just nods, “I’ve never had much money like my parents have been saving for 2 years to buy plane tickets to Virginia so that they can see me graduate. They started saving before I even got in. I went to community college on a scholarship and I get a lot of money from applying for bursaries.”
“Are you going to take the CARD job or the BAU offer?”
She shrugs, “I’m not sure yet, but probably CARD.”
“Why?”
“I can’t work with you,” she whispers. “It makes me feel like I don’t deserve to be there like I’m using you and that all my work isn’t that great. I’m just Doctor Spencer Reids girlfriend.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, imposter syndrome is a leading factor in depression among child prodigies, once you reach a certain age and you stop receiving awards for your work, it’s hard to believe that you’re still doing a good job.”
She knows he gets it, he has probably said the same fact to himself to calm down before. “Thank you.”
“Do you want me to stay?”
She nods, pulling back the covers and moving over so he can snuggle in beside her. She holds him, resting her head on his chest and taking a deep inhale of his cologne, this was the love of her life and if this was as close as she was ever going to be to him, she was going to take it.
He kisses the top of her head and holds her in his arms at just the right pressure to calm her down. She feels so comfortable with him but she still feels like shit, she doesn’t stop crying, and he just holds her through it.
“Do you want to tell me what’s really wrong?” He whispers after a while, he sounds worried.
“No,” she whispers. “I can’t.”
“Is it about me?”
“Yeah,” she cries again, “and I don’t have any other friends to talk to about us and now you’ve told hotch and I have no one to talk to about how this is kinda stressing me out.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” his voice is still scared and she knows he’s going to panic regardless and just send them around in a circle of constant anxiety. But his tone is more apologetic than one fuck up.
“Who else did you tell?” She sits up, “I thought this was just between us?”
“I needed advice, the same reason you are reacting right now, you’re stressing me out,” Spencer finally talks back with passion and she knows they’re about to fight for no reason.
“I never said you were stressing me out. I said our situation was, but I think I need to sleep alone now, Spencer” she’s confident and stern even though she’s crying.
“We can’t go to bed mad at each other. You even said the mornings are the worst, we can’t hate each other for no reason tomorrow,” he starts to cry, not knowing where he went wrong and she can see it on his face.
“I just don’t have what you have, and I’ve always been trying to copy you…”
“What?”
She sighs and wipes her tears, “I have had a big fat, fan-girly, crush on you since I was 18, I came here with my class to watch you do a talk on philias and phobias and then I knew I wanted to get into the academy and I wanted to beat your record and join the BAU, and I just thought; one day I’m going to be friends with this guy and catch bad guys with him and now I am and I’m so alone.”
“You have me?”
“I know,” she tries to smile, “but I only have you and I can tell you almost everything. Like my biggest stressor right now is that if just looking at fake crime scenes for 3 weeks has made me this anxious; what if I’m not cut out for this? What if I get to a real crime scene and I pass out or—“
“That’s only human,” he presses his lips together, awkwardly, and very Spencerly. “If you didn’t feel like this job makes you hate the world and untrusting of everyone around you; then I would think you’re crazy.”
“How do you do it?”
“I open up and let people in, but I typically wait till I’m at my lowest; crying in my friend's arms because I don’t know what to do anymore,” he smiles again, wider and toothy as she smiles back.
“Thank you,” she can’t help but tilt her head and smile as her heart settles and her brain calms down a bit, “I love you.”
“Can I kiss you or is that too much right now?”
She gets in closer to him, laying back down on the pillow and looking at him. They’re closer enough to kiss, and she just takes a moment to look at him, resting her hand on his cheek as he wraps around her waist and pulls her in closer.
“We’re okay?” He asks with his lips right against her, his breath is hot and he smells like toothpaste.
“We’re okay, but no more talking tonight, okay?” She whispers.
He nods, leaning in and kissing her finally. She knows she shouldn’t be kissing him, she knows that she should be mad at herself, but she also knew that even just pretending that he loved her back was good enough.
—
He gets called away to a case on Wednesday morning, he’s too busy to really call her and he doesn’t text back. He feels bad about it but he knows she wanted space to think anyway, what he didn’t expect was for her to reach out to Penelope.
She’s in the office with her on Friday, tired of Spencer ignoring her so she went to the one place he couldn’t avoid her; Penelope’s office.
“How can I help you today, my fine furry friends?” Y/N answers the phone with a smirk, copying Penelope’s line perfectly, they can hear them high five through the line.
“Y/N?” Spencer is the first to catch it, “what are you doing there?”
“I came to meet Anderson and see if I’d like to take his job or not,” she teases, pretending she wasn’t there just to bother him.
Hotch cuts in, asking the question he needed to ask before hanging up, “not sure what’s going on at home but we’re too close to cracking this case for schoolyard games.”
“Yes sir,” he nods and looks away, retreating to the other side of the room to stare at the map and pretend to find connections.
“Crack this and you can go home to her,” Derek whispers with a smile, thinking he’s helping the situation.
“That’s not where I want to be right now.”
“Woah,” Derek catches it, “what happened?”
“Nothing,” he’s quick to get him to stop it but he really wants advice, “she’s stressed out and she took it out on me and I wasn’t very nice back.”
“You said sorry and you pretended you were over it, didn’t you?”
He turns away from Derek with a nod, he wants to come out with it and get it over with and he’s so mad and embarrassed he just starts to cry a little, “I don’t want to lose her.”
“How could you?”
“You have no idea,” he rolls his eyes lightly and scoffs, confusing Derek.
“And I won't unless you want to talk to someone about what’s really bothering you, but you’ve been happier since you met her and I like seeing you happy, and Savannah likes double dates,” he scolds him with a smile, patting his shoulder lightly. “now let's crack this and maybe on the plane you will tell me what’s up?”
“Sure,” he says, but he doesn’t want to.
However, Derek Morgan is good at a lot of things, and one of those things is getting Spencer to calm down enough to tell him anything. Everyone is asleep on the plane, it’s just the two of them at the back together when Spencer finally feels confident enough to say it.
“I lied to you, a long time ago… and it’s just the first one.”
Derek doesn’t look angry, “okay, explain your thought process. I need to know how this pretty brain of yours works.”
He smiles a bit, “I slept with Elle the night before she shot that rapist in Ohio.”
“You did not?” Derek's voice gets a little too loud and they stop to make sure no one woke up.
“I did, but you still always made jokes about finally getting me some lovin’ and it bothered me for a while and I never told you, instead I offered to help my neighbour with her homework if she pretended to date me,” his voice lowers as the words continue and he only stares at the table between them.
“Spencer, I’m sorry,” Derek apologizes first. “I didn’t know I was upsetting you, is there anything else I do that upsets you?”
He shakes his head in a silent no, still not looking at him, he can't.
“What happened between you and Y/N?” He jumps to the main issue, fine with what happened because he feels bad for causing the issue in the first place.
“We started sleeping together.”
Derek sighs, “you have such a big brain, you can remember everything she’s ever said to you and yet you can’t see that she’s in love with you.”
“She’s good at pretending,” he pushes it away.
“No she’s not, because she’s pretending she doesn’t love you right now; the same way you are and you’re both fucking it up for each other,” Derek gives it to him straight. “You have always been loveable, but you have a very hard time accepting it, Spencer.”
“Yeah,” he starts to cry a little more.
“Go home and talk to her and tell her the truth,” it’s the best advice he can give and Spencer knows it. “What’s the worst that can go wrong?”
“She does love me back but in a few years, she realizes I’m too much and she leaves me,” his voice is the saddest Derek has ever heard it.
He gets up from his seat and hugs Spencer, sliding into the seat beside him and wrapping his arms around him, “you have never been too much. You just surround yourself with people who aren’t good enough to love you for who you are.”
“She’s better than me.”
“Which is exactly what I mean, she’s not going to leave you, believe me, once you love Spencer Reid for who he really is, it’s hard to stop,” he speaks from experience, thinking of what could have been between them if either of them had tried harder in the past.
“She’s the love of my life,” he confirms, “I’m never going to love anyone else the way I love her.”
They get the word that they’re going to be landing soon, Spencer wipes his tears and buckles in for the descent, avoiding everyone’s stares and questions on the ride back to headquarters. He’s nervous to see her, he knows his face is puffy and she’ll be there waiting for him with Penelope, but he has to do it.
“Would you wait here, I need to tell her now and she might not give me a ride home if it doesn’t go well,” he asks Derek before heading to Penelope, “she was already mad at me for telling Hotch the truth.”
“Okay, sure,” Derek smiles, reaching out a hand for Spencer, “come to me when you need me next time, okay?”
“Okay,” he agrees with a small smile, heading out to find his fake girlfriend.
She’s not with Penelope, no she’s in the filing room with Anderson and the other temps all talking and laughing, and it sounds far too interesting to interrupt. He waits outside the door and smiles at her laughter until he hears it.
“So be honest,” Agent Camden asks, “are you sleeping with Reid for this job?”
“If I was sleeping my way to the top, don’t you think I would have picked Morgan? Or Prentiss even?” She laughs and it’s like someone stabs a knife through his heart.
He turns around and heads back to Derek, “take me home.”
“Okay,” he doesn’t pry, he just grabs his coat and keys and follows Spencer to the garage.
—
He’s really ignoring her.
She finds out from Emily that Spencer left with Derek, and that he looked rather pissed off when he asked for a ride. It breaks her heart a little and she doesn’t know what to do next, she just drives home and finds herself knocking on his door.
“Let me in, please, Spencer!” She begs from behind his door.
He opens it and looks at her with a puffy red face, tear-stained cheeks and swollen lips, he’s been crying for a while. “What?”
“What did I do?”
“You slept with me,” he whispers, “and I told you I wouldn’t react well.”
“Is it my fault you’re crying?” She asks softly and he nods, “do you want to tell me?”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head, “are we still going to the banquet together tomorrow?”
“I really fucked up,” is all he can muster, crying again as he closes the door and goes to cry in his room.
She just opens the door again and follows him inside. Kicking off her shoes she crawls into bed beside him and wraps herself around him, “you don’t have to tell me but I am here for you, always.”
“I love you,” he says it like it’s the problem before he rests his head in the crook of her neck and holds her back for the first time in days.
“I love you, too, Spencer,” she cries along with him. They cry until he’s asleep and she’s just there holding him in her jeans and she’s really uncomfortable but she loves him too much to let go.
“More than you will ever know.”
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#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid self insert#spencer reid request#criminal minds smut#criminal minds imagine#new romantics
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deadly agenda ⇢ myg
min yoongi is a dangerous man. you’re a manipulative wife. together, you two are a deadly duo, and you both have your own agenda.
pairing — emperor!yoongi x wife!malereader ft. king-husband!taehyung
genres — angst, sexual themes, royalty!au, strangers-to-lovers!au
warnings — age-gap (reader is 20, yoongi is 28), swearing, degrading terms, mentions of death, feminization, descriptions of murder, sexual themes, infidelity, betrayal, slight voyeurism, yoongi is intimidating and reader is manipulative, basically they’re just plain evil
author’s note — i hate tumblr’s new update. i had more to write (not enough for a part two) but couldn’t because of the new 250 text box rule. but as for this story, this is probably the longest one i’ve written so far and the one i’m most proud of. anyway, hope you all enjoy and sorry for taking so long to upload this, took lots of planning and rewriting, plus i’ve been busy with school too.
word count — 7.4k
masterlist
Min Yoongi is a cautious, yet observant man.
Whoever steps foot in his palace, he makes sure to know everything about them. Who they are, they’re background, appearance, and how they approach him. Each and every thing can help him learn who he can trust, and who he cannot, who are his allies—and who are his enemies.
Yoongi stood by his palace’s entrance, accompanied with his guards and greeted his special guests, one by one as they walked up his home’s grand steps. He makes sure to take notes on each and every person’s facial expression, their appearance, chosen attire, and the certain way they walk up to him.
Anything could benefit him into knowing them. Their wealth and clan can be identified based on their specific appearance and choice of clothing. Their facial expressions help him learn what their true feelings and intentions are towards him that are hidden by their fake smiles and words. And lastly, the way they walk up to him can help him know the type of personality they have, whether that be obedient and innocent, or arrogant and untrustworthy.
The way he learns about his guests have never failed him. That was, until he met you.
Yoongi would be lying if he said he wasn’t astonished when his eyes laid on you for the first time. There were many things that left him utterly speechless when meeting you. For one, when his advisor told him that his guest would be bringing his wife, he was expecting a woman—not a man.
Another thing that left Yoongi speechless was your appearance, mostly your attire. You were dressed in feminine-like clothing, silk robes that were decorated with gold jewelry instead of fine material clothing with armor plating like what many men of royalty wear. And you also didn’t hold a blade like most men do too. Instead, you held a simple wooden decorative fan.
And lastly, your eyes.
Yoongi has a remarkable judge of character. Maybe not as good when it came to you, but still adequate. On the outside, your eyes were shining with gentleness and a kind greeting. But he could tell there was something else hidden behind them—something that left him intrigued by you.
You had an agenda—plans, and Yoongi was determined to find out what they are.
The welcoming feast was extremely dull.
Yoongi absorbed gallons of wine into his system, hoping that would help numb his mind and get through the rest of the evening without having to tear somebody’s head off from their body.
And apparently you thought the same as he did. Across the table, Yoongi watched as you fanned yourself out of boredom while everyone else were socializing with one another, an unamused facial expression shown on your face. Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle behind his glass when seeing one of the other wives say something to you and you flashed her a quick smile before dropping it back down into a straight line.
It seems his attention on you didn’t go unnotice because next thing he knew, your eyes were now on him. Yoongi was expecting hints of disgust or uncomfort from you, but instead he was met with sly smirk and a raised brow.
Yoongi watches intently as you leaned over and whispered into your husband’s ear. Your husband—Kim Taehyung then stood up from his seat and bowed his head, “Excuse me, your Majesty.”
Yoongi turned his head towards your husband, diverting his attention completely away from you.
“My wife is not feeling well at the moment, so with your permission, would it be alright if he can take his leave from the feast early?”
The entire dining hall fell silent, shocked expressions plastered on everyone’s faces at the table.
Nobody has ever dared to leave one of Min Yoongi’s feasts before. Who would want to, right? It’s considered a great honor for one self and their kingdom to be invited by the Emperor himself to attend one of his events.
Whispers began to spread amongst the guests.
“How shameless is Kim Taehyung’s wife?”
“Wanting to leave the Emperor’s feast early? Utterly shameless I tell you.”
“That Taehyung needs to discipline his wife.”
“Doesn’t he know how important his Majesty’s events are? And he wants to leave just because he isn’t feeling well? Unbelievable.”
“He needs to learn some manners—”
Anxiety swept across Taehyung’s face when hearing the gossips coming from the other royals, eyes wide and mouth gaped open with panic. “Forgive me, your Majesty, I never intended to—”
With just the clear of his throat, everybody fell silent once again and all eyes were now on him. Yoongi’s gaze would shift between you and your husband, curiosity filling his veins when noticing that there wasn’t any signs of illness presently visible on you. You weren’t trembling, your eyes weren’t red and skin wasn’t showing any signs of flushness. You looked fine.
That only caused more questions to form in Yoongi’s mind. Like, what do you exactly want, and what is your reason for being here? Because according to his advisor, you weren’t even part of the guest list until today. That only raised even more suspicions he had towards you.
And it’s not like he can just throw you out—actually, he can. It’s just that he doesn’t want to because now he’s curious, and he wants to see how things turn out.
“He can go,” Yoongi says a brief silence, immediately noticing the small smile creeping onto your lips. “But take him to see the physician and let him check him out,” and then it dropped.
“N-No, your Majesty,” you spoke up, lips parted. “You don’t have to do that—”
“You’re feeling unwell, right?” Yoongi then asks, smirking at the silence he got in reply. “Well, you should let my physician diagnose you then. Don’t worry though, you’re in great hands.”
One of his guards that stood by his side approached you and started to guide you to the physician’s office. And while you were leaving, Yoongi could see the glare coming from you and aimed right at him.
If you wanted to play games with him, he’ll play.
Wandering through the palace halls at night was something Yoongi usually does whenever he can’t sleep.
And apparently you had the same tendency too.
While mindlessly strolling through his palace’s hallways, Yoongi’s eyes suddenly landed on your approaching figure, the first thing catching his attention was your choice of clothing. You were dressed in golden inner robes, your sleep-wear, and the material was so thin and transparent that every feature about you was visible to him. The sight of your clear, smooth skin and every curve of your body and muscles made his mouth water. It was like you were purposely dressed like that to seduce him.
Another thing that caught his eye was the small, slightly torn grayish book that was in your grasp, which was where your complete attention was on because you still haven’t noticed his presence despite the two of you walking towards the other.
“Hello, your Highness,” you jumped out of fear, eyes wide and closing your book when your gaze landed on him. “May I ask why you are wandering around my palace this late at night?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” you simply answered, fingers tight around the cover the book, which only made Yoongi even more curious as to what you were exactly reading. “And it seems you are having the same problem as well, am I correct?”
Yoongi only hummed in reply, taking another small step towards you until you two now stood only inchest apart, him towering over you and staring down right at you. “Is there something wrong with your chambers? I can tell my servants to move you and your husband into a more comfortable place for you—”
“No no, your Majesty,” you were quick to interject. “Everything is perfect. It’s just that I’ve always had trouble sleeping at another royal’s residence, that’s all.”
Yoongi couldn’t help but find your reason funny, because he has always had trouble sleeping when there were other people staying in his palace.
A brief silence came between you two before Yoongi spoke up once again, “I’ll be taking a quick walk around my garden, you can accompany me if you like.” He didn’t wait for your reply before leaving, but when hearing the sound of your footsteps behind him right after, a smirk grew on his lips.
“You know, you never really introduced yourself when we first met,” Yoongi then brought up while the two of you made your way to the gardens.
“Forgive me, your Majesty,” you bowed your head apologetically before replying, “My name is ___, Kim ___.”
“It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Kim ___,” Yoongi reached down and took your hand into his, pressing a soft, yet tender kiss on the back of your palm, smirking at the evident blush forming on your cheeks. “And I’ve got to say, you are looking quite well for someone that claimed to be feeling sick not even three hours ago,” and that is when your smile dropped.
“Must’ve been my anxiety,” you were quick to reply back, your eyes never leaving his. “After all, I am staying at the Emperor’s palace for the first time.”
Yoongi was impressed honestly, he had to admit. For everything he had to say against you, you had something say right back at him. There isn’t a lot of people who have that type of skill to think of words—believeable words right on the spot. Anybody would believe what you were saying—too bad he isn’t just anybody.
“Must be...,” Yoongi just says, eyeing you slightly. His gaze then shifted onto the book in your hand. “What are you reading there?”
“Oh this,” you held the book up, “It’s called Flowers of the Region—a guide to every type of flower that is grown and can be found in both the South and the North. It’s my favorite book.”
“Well, that’s fortunate,” Yoongi points out, “you like flowers, and we so happen to be going to my garden. What’s your favorite flower?”
“Lily of the Valley,” you answer with a smile. “Have you heard of it?”
“I have,” Yoongi replied, his interest towards you growing even more. Lily of the Valley, despite the beautiful features of the white flower, it is proven to be quite deadly when digested. “They are only found on top of the Southern mountains—but lucky for you, I happen to grow them right here in my garden.”
Your smile grew even wider. “That’s great.”
The rest of the walk to the gardens was in silence with you trailing forward while Yoongi stood back. And with your eyes focused on the path in front of you, Yoongi couldn’t help but send glances at you every once in a while, his eyes burning into your back, admiring at the clear view your smooth skin through the thin, transparent material of your inner robes.
He surely needs to give whoever crafted your sleepwear a raise—and a big one too.
When the two of you finally got to the gardens, you were left instantly speechless at the sight of the many plots of different flowers, ranging from beautiful, vibrant ones that were quite common to dark, mysterious ones that you’ve never even seen before.
Yoongi couldn’t deny how adorable you looked though when seeing his garden for the first time, eyes wide, shining with admiration and your mouth gaped open.
“This is beautiful,” you gasped, leaning down and running your fingers delicately over some flowers.
“Thank you,” Yoongi stood beside you, “I make sure my gardeners take good care of this place.”
Silenced filled the atmosphere as Yoongi stood back and silently watched you admiring the many flowers. Normally he’d be annoyed for someone touching his property, but for some odd reason when it came to you he didn’t mind so much. Perhaps it’s because this might be the only way for him to get close to you and learn about your true intentions—or maybe he just really wants to fuck you.
Yoongi found himself once again staring at you, watching as you bent over to get a closer look at one of the flowers, giving him a perfect view of your ass and hips, both in which he wants to grab and caress with his large hands.
“So,” Yoongi spoke up after some silence, “how exactly did you become the new Lady Kim?”
Yoongi instantly noticed the way your body tensed from his question. “I was his Highness’s personal servant. When his wife suddenly passed away, he was a complete mess and I was the only one that stayed by his side through the entire mourning process. I was the one that comforted him whenever he was feeling down, I made sure he was taking care of himself and helped him with his royal duties.”
Yoongi then noticed your shoulder slumping. “After about a month or so, he started seeking me for a...different kind of comfort.” Sex. “Soon later he decided to make his new wife—the new Lady Kim.”
“You don’t seem so happy about the change in position,” Yoongi commented, “I’m sure this is much better than being a simple servant. You’re a royal now.”
“Oh, I am,” you quickly corrected him, “But being a man and having a feminine title can sometimes make things complicated.”
“Well then, don’t make them complicated.” Yoongi suggested, “You’re not a servant anymore, you’re a royal. They may not respect you now, but you have the power to make them do so.”
“Don’t worry, I know,” you told him sternly. “They’ll learn to respect me. Whether that be the hard way or the easy way—it’s their choice. So you better watch out, your Majesty, or something bad might happen to you,” you laughed softly.
Yoongi released a forceful chuckle, eyes briefly squinting at you suspiciously. It may have sound like a harmless joke, but to him, he could hear the small hints of truth behind them. “Oh trust me, I will. I wouldn’t want you as an enemy.”
“And you as well,” you replied, eyeing him back.
Silence came between you two again, Yoongi leaving you to inspect his garden in peace while he stood back and watched you. It wasn’t until an hour has passed you spoke up again, yawning, “we should head back to bed, your Majesty. We have that conference in the morning with the other royals and we need the energy.”
“You’re right,” Yoongi agreed, nodding and stepping aside so that you could walk ahead of him and back inside the place with him following right beside you. “Let me walk you back to your room.”
You didn’t say anything, only held your head low to hide the small grin on your face as the both of you made your back to the chambers. And as you two got closer to your destination, you both were froze at the sound of moaning.
Yoongi was confused at first as who it could be, but when turning to you and seeing the hardened expression on your face, he knew.
“O-Oh, Taehyung—f-faster, please!”
Yoongi was speechless. He knew many royals took on concubines while being married, but he didn’t know someone could so shameless as to bringing them to another person’s residence alongside their spouse. “Your Highness—”
“Don’t bother, your Majesty,” you spoke calmly, eyes hard and emotionless. “I’m use to it by now and it doesn’t really bother me anymore.”
“Really, it doesn’t?”
You shook your head. “At first it did, but after sleeping with my husband so many times I have learned that the only person he cares to satisfy is himself.”
Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle. What kind of husband doesn’t have the desire to satisfy is own wife? Maybe he should take you to his chambers and show you exactly what you’re missing. “Well, I-I’m still sorry for you.”
You simply shrugged your shoulders, “it doesn’t matter, your Majesty. Have a good night.”
Yoongi watched as you then opened the door went inside the chamber, causing your husband and the woman to stop and look at you with wide eyes.
“Don’t mind me,” you said to them, not even bothering to glance at them, shocking Yoongi. “I’ll be on the balcony reading my book. Just let me when you two are done.”
Taehyung’s attention instantly went back to the woman that was straddling his lap when hearing your words, hands kneading her breasts and hips and started thrusting back up into her, causing moans to erupt from both of them. Yoongi didn’t why, but the sight of them made his blood boil.
Maybe he should go in there and fuck you in front of your husband? That’ll show him what he is missing out.
Yoongi continued to watch through the crack in the door as you walked past the couple and went onto the balcony. And once you were out of his sight, that’s when he finally got a clear view of the woman on your husband’s lap, and he instantly recognized her. She was one of the servants that accompanied you and Taehyung here. Yoongi distinctly remembered seeing her earlier today, serving you tea after you got back from seeing the physician.
Yoongi glared at the couple, scoffing at the sight. What did that Kim Taehyung see in that whore of a servant that you don’t have?
You are far more enticing than she is.
Taking one last glance at the shameless couple, Yoongi retreated back to his chambers. And while he did so, his mind suddenly went back to you. How did someone so...unique end up with a man like Kim Taehyung? He’s a weak person, a shame to royal blood. You deserve to be with someone with real power, someone who would never leave you unsatisfied, both physically and emotionally. Someone like me.
Yoongi could feel himself harden just from the thought of you.
Damn you for having this type of power over me, his mind cursed. Yoongi has slept with countless of other royals before, both men and women, and he has never encountered someone like you.
You are truly something else.
“Damn,” Yoongi mumbled out to nobody in particular, palming himself through his robes. “How the hell am I going to get rid of this?”
And right on queue, a young servant boy just happened to be walking right by Yoongi when the question ran through his head.
“Stop,” was all he said, making the servant boy freeze in his place.
“Y-Yes, your Majesty?”
Yoongi took slow, intimidating steps towards him until he was towering over him, using his hands to cup his chin and forcing the servant boy to meet his eyes. “How would you feel having the honor of spending the night with your Emperor?”
The servant boy couldn’t stop the small smile from forcing on his face. “I-I would love that, your Majesty.”
That was Yoongi needed to hear before leaning down capturing the servant’s boys lips with his, hands moving to his thighs and hoisting him up in his arms and carrying him into his chambers, lips never separating.
“You’re a eager one, are you?” Yoongi chuckled against the servant boy’s mouth, moving his lips down his neck and forcing a whimpering moan from him.
“I-It’s my duty to serve y-you, your Majesty.”
That brought a smile on Yoongi’s lips.
Yoongi couldn’t find you anywhere the next day.
He couldn’t find at you breakfast, he couldn’t find you during the conference with the other royals and their wives, and he couldn’t find you at lunch. Now as dinner was approaching, there still wasn’t any sign of you anywhere.
But he had no problem finding your husband. Wherever he saw Taehyung, he saw that whore of a servant trailing behind him like a pet—but you no where to be seen.
Yoongi thought about approaching him to ask about your whereabouts, but he couldn’t help but think of the consequences that would happen afterwards. But that still didn’t stop him from sending glares at the younger royal and the servant every now and then, which didn’t go unnotice by either of them.
“Is there something wrong, your Majesty,” Taehyung finally asks, breaking the tensed silence between the two of them. “You’ve been staring at me all day today and haven’t said a single word.”
“Oh nothing,” Yoongi simply replies, eyes still trained on him while twirling his glass of wine. “Just wondering where your wife is at right now, since everyone else is here. Is he still not feeling well from last night?”
For a very very brief moment, Yoongi could see panic glinting in his eyes before answering, “o-oh yes, your Majesty, he told me that he’s still feeling unwell so I allowed him stay back in the room.”
Liar, was Yoongi’s first thought, eyes glaring even more at the long, black-haired royal.
Everyone at the table could feel the tension between their Emperor and the young royal, and still no one chose to speak up about it.
Yoongi had a reputation. He is the first ever Emperor to achieve the throne through combat rather than family bloodline—and he is also the youngest ruler to ever be placed higher than a simple king. But that weren’t the only things he was known for. He was also generally known for being intelligent and quite reserved, and cruel if absolutely necessary, and also able to hold a grudge. It may sound simple, but everybody knew that if their Emperor had something against you, your days were limited.
So that’s why nobody chose to speak up when seeing the menancing glares their Emperor were sending at the youngest and only surviving Kim. Because they knew if they intervened, they’d only anger him and get on his list, and that’s the exact opposite of what they want to do.
“Your Majesty,” his advisor suddenly whispered right beside him. “I think it would be a good idea to continue the meeting. Some of your guests has some things to say about the...improvements you’re doing to the North.”
Yoongi clenched his jaw, eyes scanning over Taehyung once more before turning his attention to the other royals. “Sure,” he then says, “which one of you want to speak first?”
Not even a second later, Park Jimin, ruler of the Park Kingdom stood up from his seat and spoke. “Your Majesty, my council and I believe that the border that you have placed around my region is completely unnecessary.”
“How so?” Yoongi asks, leaning back against his chair with an amused look on his face. He had to admit that he was impressed that the blonde man was the first to speak up. He may not be the youngest royal out of everyone, but he certainly is the one with the least experience when it came politics.
“For starters your border cuts right through my kingdom’s river, slicing our water supply in half,” he starts, voice slightly raising. “And the amount of wood you required for the construction of the wall resulted in about ninety percent of the forests in my region to be completely cut down, forcing most of my workers into unemployment.”
Yoongi continued to listen closely with his hands laced together and resting on top of his chest, rocking back and forth in his chair with an intent glint in his eyes.
“I also find it completely unfair how your border only crosses over my kingdom but no one else’s.” Jimin continued to rant, jamming his finger repeatedly angerly against the table while keeping his eye contact with him. “I think it’s not for protection like you have claimed many of times, but as a prison, to keep my people in check. You’re nothing but a—”
Yoongi slammed his hand heavily onto the table, instantly silencing the young royal and causing everyone to gulp nervously. He may at times find it amusing when someone fights back, but he will never allow anyone to talk down against him, not in his own residence.
“You think I built that wall as a prison?” Yoongi asks, chuckling when the blonde man didn’t reply. “Are you forgetting what happened before I built that wall? Spies from the South would come right into our territories and would gather information on us, murder our people in their sleep—that’s how your parents died, am I correct? Some spy that sneaked into their palace assassinated them when they were asleep? It would such a shame if the same thing happens to you—after I take down the wall, of course.”
Yoongi smirked when noticing the seeing Jimin’s jaw clenching and hands angrily balling into fists. “So don’t you ever accuse me again? Because everything I do is for the best of my people, not just yours. The wall is only bordering your land because your land is the only one that connects with the South.”
Jimin’s head hung low, hands unclenching and lips dropping into the frown.
“So before you come at me, you should make sure that you have all the information, do you understand me?” Jimin nodded and sat down.
Everybody tensed when Yoongi then stood up from his seat and slowly, intimidatingly made his way to Jimin’s chair. And when placing his hands on the younger man’s shoulders, Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle when feeling him jump slightly underneath his touch. “Normally I’d kill anyone who spoke to me that way,” leaning down, he whispered into Jimin’s ear, sending chills along his pale skin, “but I’ll let it slide for once since you’re new to this whole thing.”
“T-Thank you, your Majesty.”
With one last pat on the shaking man’s shoulder, Yoongi pulled away, and he was standing straight again, his eyes suddenly fell on your figure who stood near the entrance of the conference hall. But you weren’t alone, no, three servants that he couldn’t recognize was with you. The four of you seemed to be in a deep conversation, and with everybody focused on him, nobody noticed you.
Yoongi’s eyes slightly squinted out of suspicion when seeing you then bow your head at the three servants, a smile on your face before each of you went your separate ways.
Yoongi is definitely going to look into that.
“Now,” returning his attention back to his guests, Yoongi leaned himself against the table, keeping close to the blonde man that was still trembling. “Does anyone else have anything to say to me?”
“N-No no, your Majesty,” Jung Hoseok, another royal spoke up, gulping anxiously as he tightened his hand around his wife’s who sat beside him. “We have no complaints whatsoever, you’re doing an amazing job—the perfect ruler.”
Kiss ass, Yoongi rolled his eyes, pushing himself away from the table. He then shifted his attention towards your husband and asks, “what about you, your Highness? Anything to say?”
Taehyung shook his head. “No, your Majesty.”
“What a bunch spineless people,” Yoongi’s mind scoffed, and he couldn’t agree more.
His advisor then rose from his chair and spoke up, “okay everyone, thank you all for attending his Majesty’s annual end of conference feast this year. You may all now return to your rooms and get some rest before heading back to your own residences in the morning.”
Yoongi stayed back and bid farewell to everyone, and once everyone was gone he left the conference hall with only one thing on his mind—you. He was determined to find out what exactly were you and those three servants were discussing about. Yoongi was so rapt on you that he didn’t even hear his advisor calling out of him to come back.
He practically jogged to the chambers hall, heading straight to your room and when he got there, just as he was about barge right through the door he was then stopped by a sudden sound. Moans could be heard on the other side of the door—female moans. Yoongi’s hands were already hovering over the door handle before he opened it slightly to where there was only a crack, giving him the view of seeing your husband with same servant girl from the night before.
Yoongi watches as she claws his back, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he place open mouth kisses along her bare chest and thrusted deep into her, causing loud, pleasurable moans to erupt from both of their mouths.
“T-Tae,” the young servant girl gasped, hands running up and down his sweaty back and fingers digging into his marked, glistening skin. “I’m close.”
“Me too, love,” he groaned back, leaning down and capturing her lips into a passionate kiss. “Together, okay...?”
Utterly shameless, Yoongi shook his head and pushed away from the door with disgust. Just as he was about to continue searching for you, he froze at the sound a voice behind him—a female voice.
“Are you looking for Lady Kim, your Majesty?”
Yoongi turned around and was greeted by one of your servants, hands laced together and hanging in front of her with a wide smile on her face. “No, I’m not,” he quickly replied, shaking his head. He expected her to just nod her head and leave, but instead she released a small chuckle and turned around, saying in a soft tone, “follow me.”
Yoongi was hesitant, eyes burning suspiciously into the servant girl’s back as she began to walk away. But he soon decided to follow her despite the constant warnings that were running through his head at the moment.
The servant’s gaze was trained on the path in front of her, not even bothering to acknowledge the glare she was receiving by platinum-haired man that was trailing right behind her.
The warnings that were consuming Yoongi’s head started to get louder as he continued to follow her deeper into his residence, parts of his home that he hasn’t even been in.
Yoongi stopped in his place when the servant led him to a room with dark, double doors. “What is this,” he asks with a cold expression, causing the young girl to chuckle and open the door without saying a word to him. He was about to question her even more but when he got to see what was behind the door, leaving him speechless.
Standing right in front him was you, along with over a dozen guards and servants that were from many different kingdoms. Some of the guards and servants were part of the Park Kingdom, some were from the Jung Kingdom, and others were from your own home.
“What’s going on here?” Yoongi asks, his eyes glancing across the many different pairs that were staring right back at him.
“They work for me,” came out of your mouth. “We are all part of movement that believes that the North needs a change in leadership—which is you. You’re the only that deserves to rule the North, not these cowards.”
Yoongi was speechless. For once in his life he didn’t know to say. For the first time he wasn’t the one that was planning in the shadows, plotting against somebody—but instead it was people who he has never even met before. “Why,” was the only thing that came out of his mouth.
“Because war is coming your Majesty,” you stepped towards him to where you stood only inches away from his face, staring up to meet his eyes. “My agents told me that the South is planning an invasion into our territory, and the way the other kingdoms are ruling their land—we won’t survive this war. You are the only one that is capable of leading us to victory.”
Yoongi turned towards your followers. “Do you all agree with him?”
“Yes, your Majesty,” one of the guards spoke up. Each and every person then stepped forward and began to speak loudly on their opinions of their leaders.
“Park Jimin is too young to be King—he doesn’t know how to rule.”
“He can’t even hold a sword properly.”
“Jung Hoseok is a spineless man!”
“Damn right he is! The moment the South comes barging intl his palace, he’ll do whatever it takes to save his own skin and not his people.”
“Kim Taehyung is shameless bastard who would rather spend his time fucking his servants than leading his own Kingdom.”
Yoongi could see you snicker at that comment.
“He spends our taxes buying whores instead of using it to improve our home.”
“None of them belong on the throne!”
“They are right, your Majesty,” you stared at him with a small smirk on your lips. “Out of everyone, you’re the only that deserves to rule us. You are the one who will lead us to glory.”
Yoongi stared down at you with such desire. He may have found you attractive before, but now he couldn’t help but find you utterly irresistible. “So this isn’t just some power trip? Doing all this just to get to the top?”
Yoongi had his suspicions already about the war. He has heard from his own agents that the South were planning on some sort of invasion, but there wasn’t any evidence that confirmed that. So sadly he hasn’t been able to do any preparations—at least, none without the other royals knowledge of it.
You shook your head. “I don’t care about power, your Majesty—only survival, and you’re the best way to achieve that.”
“I see,” Yoongi reached up and stroked his chin, “how would you all do this anyway? Kill the rulers of each Kingdom can be tricky, and what about their heirs?”
“It’s quite easy,” you answered with a small grin. “They all have their jobs,” you nodded at your followers, “once they are home and unguarded, that is when they’ll strike. And as for their heirs, well, that’s not really a problem.”
Yoongi raised a brow. “Jung Hoseok’s wife is unable to bare a child, and he also doesn’t have any younger siblings to take over. So once he passes, rulership of his Kingdom immediately goes over to you. Same goes for my husband and Park Jimin.”
“I see,” Yoongi hums, biting inside of his cheek. “So what’s my job then?”
You smirk. “The only thing you have to do is have your succession speech ready, your Majesty.”
“But I have another problem,” Yoongi added. “Many people already disagree with our war with the South. How will we manage to persuade them that this is necessary? It’ll be difficult since three of the four leaders of the North are dead.”
“Trust me, your Majesty,” you spoke with such clarity and a smile on your face. “Everything is planned out and you don’t have to worry.”
Yoongi didn’t replay, eyes briefly glancing at the people that surrounded him. You must’ve noticed his still cautious state because next thing he knew you were signaling everybody out, telling them to “get some rest and prepare for your departure in the morning.”
“Why are you doing this exactly?” Yoongi asks the moment you two were alone in the room. “Because there is no damn way you’re doing this just for survival. I mean,” he suddenly chuckles, “you are giving complete control of the North. What is your angle here? Are you going to kill me after all this is so that you become Emperor?” Yoongi was starting to get frustrated. He has never had trouble understanding someone before until he met you. And now because of you, his mind was a complete mess.
“That’s not my intention at all, your Majesty,” smiling up at him, you placed your hand on his shoulder, smirking at the feeling of him tensing underneath your fingertips. “All I want is for the North, my home—your home to finally come out of its shadow that it has been forced to hide in for centuries.”
“And you think I’m the one that can do that?”
“Yes,” you nod, fingers dancing across his chest. “I’ve read records of previous Emperors and you’re the only that deserves that title. Unlike the other ones, you are resilient, intelligent, ruthless if necessary, and you even fight alongside your men which no other Emperor has done before.”
As each compliment came out of your mouth, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel himself starting to get hard underneath his lower robes, and you running your hands seductively over his chest definitely wasn’t helping.
“How should I repay you for your kindness then,” Yoongi found himself melting against your touch, his hands finding their way into your waist. “Because someone like you definitely deserves an reward for their loyalty.” Yoongi then turns you around in one quick motion, causing you to gasp at the sudden action and feeling his strong chest pressed up against your back and lips brushing against your ear.
A tiny moan escaped from your lips when feeling his hard length suddenly rub against your ass, you yourself starting to get hard as well. “Should I buy you plenty of jewelry, or maybe a large palace just for you?” Yoongi then pushed you up against the wall, smirking at the small gasp that came from you. “Or perhaps,” another moan came out of your mouth when one of his hands slipped underneath your robes and caressed the soft flesh of your behind, “make you wife?”
Yoongi chuckled when feeling shiver against him. “Yeah, you would like that, huh? Being my wife, an Empress, ruling right beside me?”
“Y-Yes, your Majesty,” you stuttered out, tilting your head back from the sensation, giving Yoongi the opportunity to lean down and leaving wet, tender kisses along your neck and bare shoulder, leaving dark bruises that’ll be near impossible to cover up tomorrow morning.
“Good,” Yoongi left another mark on your skin, dragging his finger across your ass, teasing your clenching hole with his fingertip. “Then how about we—secure our deal, then? And when you nodded, that was all Yoongi needed before turning you around to face him and crashing his lips down forcefully onto yours. The kiss was rough, yet tender and filled with lust. With your hands around his neck, Yoongi’s slid down to your thighs and hoisted you up into his arms, deepening the kiss with his lips moving in perfect sync against yours.
The kiss was like a drug that neither of you couldn’t get enough of.
“Please, your Majesty,” you whimpered against his lips, which made Yoongi want you even more than he already did. “Can you please h-hurry?”
Yoongi smirked against your lips, pulling away. “Don’t worry, my love, just be patient.”
It was quite ironic though, because Yoongi was everything but patient when it came to you. He couldn’t wait any longer. Instead of carrying you all the way to his chamber, he laid you on the closest flat surface which happened to be a table and tore your robes completely off of you, leaving you bare and them in ruins.
Yoongi decided to take his sweet time with you, dragging his lips across your ankles, up your legs to your meaty thighs. He then began to leave open mouth kisses over your abdomen and up your chest, teasing your nipples with his tongue and grazing the wet muscle over your collarbone. Yoongi continued his assault on your body until he reached back up your lips, capturing them this time into a soft, passionate kiss which you gladly returned without a second thought, hands sliding up to his shoulders and helping him strip from his own robes, revealing his pale and toned body.
Your mouth watered at the sight of him, eyeing his define muscles, the way his abs clenched as he climbed onto the table and hovered over you, and the way his biceps bulged as he held himself above you. “Y-Your Majesty—”
“Yoongi,” he cut you off, pulling away and moving his lips to your throat. “Call me, Yoongi, my love.”
“Y-Yoongi,” you tried out, heart warming in both of your chests once hearing his name come out of your mouth. It sounded right coming from you. “Please—”
“Don’t worry, my love,” Yoongi reassured you, moving his lips back up to yours. “I’m here, I’m here. Let me show you how it feels to be loved by a real man, yeah?”
The night was then soon filled with nothing but the sound your combined moans, skin slapping and the shared whispers of sweet words between one another.
This was the start of something new.
“T-Taehyung, faster, faster please!”
The sound of the woman’s moans and the bed’s headboard banging against the connecting wall to your room made your blood boil. Your hands clenched into fists and teeth biting angrily down onto your lips.
“Be patient, my love,” you could hear your husband say through the thin wall, making the rage that flowed through your veins grow more. “Let me cherish you, beautiful...”
“Your Highness,” the sound of a man’s voice tore you out of your thoughts, “I’ve done what you’ve asked me to do.”
“Everything’s prepared and ready?”
The guard nodded his head once you turned around, “yes, your Highness. The only people remaining in the palace are your loyal followers. Everyone else has been sent home.”
“Good,” only came out of your mouth before leaving your chambers with the guard following closely behind you. You walked over next door and didn’t bother knocking before barging right in, your husband and the girl instantly jumping to cover themselves with the thin bedsheets.
“What the fuck?!” Taehyung curses loudly, staring at you with wide eyes and wrapping his arms around the girl’s waist, pulling her close. “What are you doing here? I told already you that I’m staying here tonight.”
“I know,” you replied with not even a single ounce of emotion heard in your voice.
Taehyung’s eyes then shifted towards the guard that stood beside you. “What’s going on here?”
You didn’t say anything, only smiled, and that caused fear to form in the pit of Taehyung’s gut. With just the simple nod of your head, the guard walked over to the servant girl and snatched her by her hair, tearing her away from his grasp and yanking her off the bed and onto the ground.
“Stop—” Taehyung tried to reach for her but stopped when the guard pulled out a dagger and held the sharp blade against her neck, tears shining in her eyes. He then turned towards you, eyes glistening as well, “why are you doing this?”
“Change,” was all you said before nodding your head again, giving the guard the order to slide his blade across the girl’s throat, killing her instantly and letting her limp body collapse into the ground.
“N-No no,” Taehyung didn’t hesitate this time to jump out of the bed, despite being completely nude and taking her now lifeless body into his arms, blood staining the ground and his skin, and tears spilling uncontrollably from his eyes. “She was pregnant...”
“Oh well.”
Taehyung’s head shot up from your heartless comment, his teary eyes shining with a newfound rage. Before he had the chance to say anything the guard approached him from behind and wrapped his arms tightly around his neck. He immediately began clawing at his arms, trying to gasp for air that was becoming harder and harder to obtain, eyes bright red and nearly bulging out, tears slipping from them and sliding down his cheeks.
The last thing he saw before he took his last breath and eyes slowly closed was you standing in front of him with a sinister grin on your lips.
“Your Majesty.”
Yoongi glanced up from his book to see his personal advisor standing right in front of him by his library’s entrance. He hummed in reply, signaling for the young man to continue. We’ve gotten word from Lady Kim—” Yoongi glared at him, causing his advisor to pause and correct his words, “—I mean, ____’s agents that they have completed their duties.”
“They have?” Yoongi asked with a raised brow. He knew you were more than capable of doing this, but he thought something this major would take at least a week to accomplish. He didn’t expect to hear about any success a day later.
“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded. “The Jung palace is flames at this moment and there is word that Jung Hoseok himself and his wife were in their chambers when the fire happened. And as for Park Jimin, he was found murdered in his bed with a dagger in his chest. Some say it was one of his concubines that done it.”
“What about Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi found himself asking, his mind instantly thinking of you. “Was ___ successful?”
“Yes, your Majesty he was,” his advisor answered. “I was informed about Kim Taehyung’s death by ___ himself.”
Yoongi couldn’t stop the smile forming on his lips. “Good.”
“Would you like to start writing your succession speech now, your Majesty?”
“Yes,” Yoongi answered. “We’ll have the succession conference next week, and make sure every minor clan leader comes so that they know who is in charge now.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded his head, and before leaving he turned back and said to him in a teasing tone, “oh, and someone is here to see you.”
Yoongi was about to ask him who it was, but he stopped himself when his eyes suddenly landed on you standing in his library’s entrance, his heart stopping in his chest at the sight of you. “H-Hey,” he stuttered out, cringing at the sound of himself. In all his years of living, nobody has ever had this type of power over him—but he wasn’t complaining either.
“Hello, your Majesty,” your reply sent tingles all over his body—and he loved it.
There was nothing but silence afterwards between you two because there wasn’t any need for words. The only thing you two needed to express the feelings you have for each other was your eyes—the passion, the lust, the want that shined in them.
This is just the beginning for you two.
would you guys like to see a drabble series of these two in the future maybe? emperor yoongi and his male wife.
TAGLIST:
@ben-c0c, @sombreboy, @theclawofsa, @joongtoons, @xavi-in-kpopland, @ephemeralkookie, @yoshiure, @illbeyournightmare, @sonderkook, @spaceisbigger, @catboygyu, @justqueerandhereforthetea, @xxminilah
#bonnyskies#bts#bts angst#bts one shot#bts x reader#bts x male reader#min yoongi#min yoongi angst#min yoongi one shot#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi x male reader#yoongi#yoongi angst#yoongi one shot#yoongi x reader#yoongi x male reader#bts imagines#min yoongi imagines#yoongi imagines
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"I always knew you were mine, Angel."
Ryomen Sukuna x Fem! Reader.
➽───────────────❥
Sypnosis: You've been raising your and someone else's child. Ever since a accidental one night stand, you got a little tipsy one night, and had someone else's kid 9 months later.. But, when you enroll your kid in soccer practice.. You and the coach have a strange connection..
Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, and breeding. NSFW (slightly), Pet names, such as "Bunny' or "Angel". "Sir" kink. Dom! Sukuna. (Slightly) Pre-named kid! And Dad-mentions. Size-kink. Car-session.
CW: All the characters are at the correct age to intervene or comply with the storyline!
Word count: 2.1k words!
➽───────────────❥
You were driving Yuto to soccer practice, looking back in the review mirror at him. "Don't worry munch! You'll do so well!" You tried cheering him on. You knew he was nervous, you could see it in his face. But you were always distracted by your kid's looks. He had bright hazel-pink hair, with your eye color, and shape. And the cutest little nose that looks just like yours. Topping it off with a cute little dimple on his left cheek. He looked back your eyes in the review mirror, and sighed.
"Mom.. What if I mess up? I don't know how to play soccer!" He whined into his hands, kicking the seat slightly. "Munch. That's why you're going to practice! I'm sure there are other kids there who don't know how to play! Nobody's born and becomes a soccer prodigy!" You tried lighting his mood again.
"Well, all my friends had a dad to teach them things, why don't I?" He asked, with his hands tugging at the seat-belt. You tried dodging the question, asking him short questions instead. But he wanted an answer, so there you were. "Well.. Munch, I Don't really know where your dad is." You gulped, hoping he wouldn't continue. You really wanted to tell him the truth, but you couldn't just lay it on the table, and say- "Sweetie, I have No clue where your dad is. We haven't talked at all, and We barely talked when we met. Well.. not with words, to be nice."
"Makes sense! Onodera's dad travels a lot too!" He smiled, with his dimple-cuteness activating. You smiled at him, finally pulling up to the gym. You always questioned why this place was so big when you came here as a child. It was a sky-blue, with silver and yellow Pillars. You thought that the Pillar colors represented something, but there wasn't a mascot. Not if you count the Peeling paint on the side making the deformed shape of a cresent. You softly grabbed Yuto's hand, asking him if he tied his cleets, or if he needed to pee.
"I'm fine, Mom. But I won't be if you keep making me nervous." He muttered slightly. You run your hands through his hair. Still leading him to the gym room doors. You see a slightly tall figure, with Hair that reminds you of snow. The figure had on a very slick red jacket, with words that read,
"Nekoma high graduate!" On it. It looked pretty worn out, with a rip on the bottom of the sleeve, And a cat with spots on it. He seemed so proud of it, doing some weird motion with his arms. He greeted you with a smile, tugging at the cloth over his eyesight. "Well.. How do you do, Madomoiselle?" He attempted, biting his lip slightly. You laughed nervously, and greeted him with a goofy-smile. "Hello there.. Mr Satoru?" You peeped at his colorful nametag before smiling back at him. "This is my little munch, Yuto!" You cheered slightly, giving Yuto a little nudge.
"Hey there, kiddo! You're the spitting image of your hot mom." Gojo smiled, giving him a little push. "You'll do great out there. Now go- I have to get your mom to sign me some papers. And maybe her number-"
You cut Gojo off, with a kiss to Yuto's forehead, and a few extra cheers. You smile at the sight of Yuto's feet scuffing the floors with his shadow, and tell him you'll be in there right after. Gojo looked at you, them gave a big smile. "Miss, you have the eyes of a woman that's trying to cope. What's the issue? If you don't mind me asking."
You sighed, reading the paper Gojo handed you. It metioned something about a new coach, and how they'll be games every other day. You signed your name, and replied.. "Well, Yuto is starting to ask more and more about his dad lately, and his dad isn't really.. Y'know-"
"Hm,, Sounds like someone got a little saucy, yeah?" Gojo joked, bumping your elbow with his arm. You gave him a smile, and muttered an insult that made him laugh. He grabbed the paper, and smiled. "Well, Ms Y/n! Even though I don't see your number on this paper, I'll accept it."
"I'm sure I'll see you again, Mr Satoru." You smiled. "But- It won't involve my digits in your hotline, Mister." Gojo laughed, and gave you another smile. "Fair, Fair. But I'll always be here for the party, purrrrincess~" He made a pun, motioning to the cat on his jacket. You gave him an "Mmhm." and laughed a little.
You walk into the gymnasium practice room, seeing Yuto talking to a very tall man. The man was very slender, with slight broad shoulders. His figure was dream-made, with long, gentle bu slightly big looking arms, and very long legs that moved up to his sized torso, and shaped face. Tracing to his hazel-pink hair, with a messy hairstyle. "Christ- What does this man do for a living to be looking like a full course?" You thought to yourself, trying not to stare. You sat yourself on the bleachers, looking at how Yuto looking kicking the ball straight into the goal, avoiding all the blocks and built-up tension of his teamates. You laughed to yourself. "All that talk about not being good, and look at you go. Kicking that thing with no mercy." You felt a presence on the side of you, as you looked over.
The man had sat bedside you, looking at the sight you were only just gazing on seconds ago. "Good evening, Miss." He said holding out his hand.
Why so formal? It's just soccer. "Good evening, sir! How do you do?" You asked, taking Gojo's line. Sukuna chuckled a little, and gave you a little smile. "That's that idiot Satoru's line, isn't it?" He asked, shaking his head jokingly. You laughed, making his eyes widen slightly. He had noticed your familar laugh, wondering where he heard it from. He shook the lingering thoughts in his head, and tried to break the sem-comfortable silence. "Is that your boy?"
You shifted your vision back to Yuto on the field. "Yeah, he's mine." You replied. Sukuna admired your features, your hair that blew from the air circulation, your eyes that sparkled in any angle the light shone in.. His eyes moved their way to your legs.. then your waist, which he wanted to touch, then your chest- Which he paused on. He fastly took his eyes off of you, blushing.
You look over at him, and ask if he's okay, because you see that his cheeks are a little red. "Yes, Yes. I'm fine.. Just a little hot." He responded. You got up, telling him you were going to get ice. He pulled you back down gently, and gave you "It's okay's". He wanted you to stay, so he could admire you some more. He had felt this before.. Like Deja Vu. He knew he'd seen you up close like this somewhere, but it felt closer. Sukuna was tempted to ask "Have me met somewhere before?" But didn't want to sound strange.
You smile, as he told you not to worry, and slipped off his coat. You still worried for him a bit, feeling his face to make sure it wasn't too hot. He flinched at the feel of your touch.. He swore he felt your soft hands on him once. And he finally came to ask. "Miss.. Y/n, do we know eachother?" He asked, adjusting his glasses.
You didn't know whether you did or not. You did know that his cologne scent was so mesmerizing, yet familar. You had smelled it somewhere.. And it was really comforting. "I'm not sure, Sir." He gave you a smile, showing a dimple on his left cheek, that looked just like Yuto's. "Call me crazy, but.. You look like my Little Yuto over there, Sir." Sukuna cleared his throat, and looked away. "You think? I think we look similar aswell."
You both realized the sense. With Sukuna's looks.. And your Genes, you both were inmates. Partners. Maybe.. Lovers. You refused to believe that your 6 year old kid's dad was his new soccer coach. "If you don't mind me asking.. How long has it been since you've engaged in those.. Activites Ms?" He asked you, trying not to be weird.
"Well, since I got fucked, and pregnant? Maybe a few years." You wanted to say. "Well, It's been a few years. Since 7 years ago?" You gave him an answer. "It wasn't really.. A official thing."
"Maybe we can make it official, Angel? I already know who you are." Sukuna asked himself, rotating his fingers. "I understand. My last encounter was also about 7 years ago."
"My next will be soon.. Angel~" He smirked to himself. "There's always a right time for everything." He smiled, patting your shoulder. "Maybe we can talk after practice?" He said, walking off. You took off your serious face, and started flushing. The scent of his cologne made you a little aroused, which you found strange. You wanted to smell it more and more, until you couldn't anymore.
Practice was finally over, and you went over to collect Yuto, who was talking to another boy. Yuto looked back at you, and gave a flustered smile, before returning to the boy. You always knew Yuto had some type of affection for boys. So you'd let him have that friendship. You went to go give him his tennis shoes, when Sukuna pulled you aside.
"Gojo will take care of the kids. Please, wait for me at the door." He told you, patting your shoulder. You listened, walking to the door. You saw Gojo doing some silly walk leading the kids outside, Yuto's new friend waved at you. And you waved back, winking at Yuto. You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you jumped.
"Don't worry, It's only me, Angel." Sukuna calmly said.
Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. It finally hit you. That name that you were called so long ago. The name you were obsessed with that one night of your life. The name you had written down in your book. "Who are you? Sukuna?" You asked, backing away slowly.
"..Hm, I'd perfer If you'd call me Sir like you were." He smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Go on.. Your baby daddy is waiting, Angel." He teased, loosening his tie.
"You can't just- This is wrong. I haven't seen you in years, and you want to just come on me like this?" You said, trying to push him away.
"No Angel, I'm trying to make up for it.. You know how lonely It's been for 7 years? Without the sweet, small little Angel that I love?" Sukuna asked, thumbing your lips. "Then if you love me, why'd you leave me laying in a inn? Not even an explanation. And you missed 7 whole years of your child's life." You shot back.
"Well, there's the rest of it to make up for lost time, No?" He whispered in your ear, nibbling it slightly. You flushed, and your breathing got heavy by the scent of his cologne coming back to you. "We're in a gym, Suku- Sir.." You whispered, getting nervous by the second.
In the car, wasn't maybe the right choice. You had forgotten how big Sukuna was. He was huge. You didn't think you could take him at all. "Don't be scared, I'll go slow. Get loose Angel, we're making up for lost time." Sukuna whispered in your ear, touching your bare waist. "Now won't you be a good little angel, and spread those legs for me?"
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Requested: On Tumblr; May I ask for a Giyuu x male!Reader smut? Perhaps the reader being a little rough with Giyuu please?
Pairing(s): Giyuu Tomioka x Top Male Reader.
Warning(s): NSFW/SMUT, Bottom Tomioka, Energetic reader, Choking, Slight dirty talk and degradation, Hair pulling, ✨ Aftercare. ✨
DNI; if you use she/her pronouns.
A/n- I'm such a slut for this man smh
___________
I couldn't help but smile brightly when I saw Tomioka a little ways away from me, we were assigned a mission a couple of days ago to a quiet town in the east, where a demon has been taking young drunks and since I got here a day or so before him I made sure to look around and get familiar with the area. So I gently tapped my index and middle fingers together as we approached each other, seeing the slightest of smiles tug at his lips once he saw me, "[Y/n], you burned Wisteria incense?" He asked, now looking up at me with his usual stoic expression and all I could do is let out a small 'Mm-hm!' With a quick nod and a wide grin, not being able to speak much due to my damaged vocal cords. So taking a step closer I leaned down besides his ear not noticing the sudden stillness of his body as I spoke, "Should give us a bit more time to search around" My now deep and raspy voice wasn't something I had gotten used to yet, and it didn't help that I couldn't speak any louder then a whisper. However I did catch the small hitch in his breath, causing me to frown a bit as I pulled away and looked at him, his face was flushed and his lips were slightly parted, his gaze was fixated on the ground and I could finally see just how still he was standing.
It was only when I pressed the back of my hand to his forehead that he finally looked back up at me with slightly widened eyes. "You're warm, maybe you're sick?" My throat slowly started to itch again and I had to resist the urge to scratch at the scar along my throat. It was quiet concerning though, Tomioka has been getting warm like this a lot recently, I've tried to ask others about it to but they would just give me a knowing smile and tell me everything's alright, but that didn't stop me from worrying. I'm pretty sure it started around the time I was at the butterfly estate since Shinobu was helping me with my throat and damaged vocal cords. "Maybe you should sit this one out, I don't want you getting hurt" The worry in my tone was clear, but Tomioka simply took my hand in his and leaned up to place a gentle kiss on my cheek before pulling away, "I'm fine [Y/n], now let's go look around."
Stubborn bastard.
I couldn't help but sigh and follow after him, not wanting him to get lost since he's only just arrived. So while it was still light out I showed him all the important places where the demon might be hiding or might target next, taking an occasional look around at all the Wisteria incense I put out to see how much longer we had left and finally talking with some of the residence here, which luckily didn't end to badly since Tomioka had to do most of the talking. Nevertheless we eventually came up with a plan, "So we're going to tail a drunk?" I asked, looking at Tomioka with a slightly disapproving glare, not really wanting to use a towns-person as bait and I could tell that Tomioka new what I was thinking when he rested his hand on my shoulder, looking up at me with those beautiful dark blue eyes that practically own me at this point. "I won't let them get hurt, I promise" Even though he sounded confident I still held my doubts, but with a heavy sigh I traced the back my fingers along his jawline, pulling him in for a sweet but gentle kiss, "You're lucky I love you cause if it were anyone else I'd probably strangle them for even suggesting this idea."
I could practically feel the way my heart fluttered at his sudden chuckle, the sound of it so foreign since he rarely ever shows emotions, and I couldn't help but pull him back for another quick kiss, before heading off to my station, "Stay safe." It was the only thing I could hope for as I stood at the back of the bar, I was thankful that there was only one due to it being a small town but that didn't make the situation any less dangerous. The incense finally wore off as the stars danced across the midnight sky, while I sat myself down on the roof, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious or even just someone leaving and so far everything seemed alright, until a shadow flickered from the corner of my eye.
In one swift movement I drew my blade and slashed it at the demon who managed to jump out of the way just in time, now standing from my seated position I narrowed my eyes at the ugly bastard, "So you're the one that's been eating all these people?" I asked calmly, trying to raise my voice a little higher so I could be heard, and I couldn't help but raise a brow in confusion from the way she suddenly swayed, a deep blush now coating her grayish complexion. "It's a pity your a Demon slayer, with a voice like that I'd love to have you in my bed" I couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable about her suggestive tone and lustful gaze, but something in the back of my mind nagged at me. So trying to brush it off I rushed at her, dodging any hit she sent my way while she managed to dodge my attacks as well, "Sorry lady but I already got a lover, and I don't plan on letting you live tonight." Her smirk only seemed to grow at my words, as I closed in on her, hoping she wouldn't notice the way I was backing her into a corner, "Then they must be real slut for you hm? Wanting nothing more than to get off to deep voice of yours-"
Blood splattered onto my cheek and clothes as I cut off her head, "Demon or not, no one talks about my lover that way" I sneered slowly feeling my anger subside as I watched her burn away. Though I couldn't deny the fact that her words got me thinking, and eventually led me to connecting the dots about Tomioka's recent actions. So when the male appeared beside me with worried eyes I couldn't help but smile and nod my head before sheathing my blade, I also convinced him to stay the night with me since we've been away from one another for so long, and maybe for the fact that I wanted to figure something out.
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I didn't bother to dry my hair as I walked into our shared room, spotting Tomioka sitting on his futon with a book in hand, gently flipping through the pages as I made my way over to him, "[Y/n]?" Ignoring the call of my name I happily moved myself between his legs while pushing him onto his back so that I could rest my head on his abdomen. "It's been so long.. Since we've last seen each other" I mumbled softly, wrapping my arm around his waist so that I could hold him closer against me, while my other hand slipped under his robe and gently traced small circles along his skin, smiling when I heard a sigh of content slip past his lips. However I couldn't help but trail my hand up higher as I lifted myself onto my knees, looking down into Tomioka's slightly widened eyes with a small smirk tugging at my lips.
"And it's been even longer.. Since I heard those pretty moans of yours" I could feel the way his body shivered under my fingertips and it only caused my smirk to grow as I attached my lips to the base of his neck, dragging my teeth and tongue along his pale skin, not wanting to leave a single place untouched while my hands opened up his robe. Gently tracing my fingers along his toned abdomen and pushing my thumbs against his hardened nipples, as I bit into his shoulder, drinking in the way he moaned my name with a choked gasp. "[Y-Y/n].." The way my name rolled off his tongue nearly caused me to growl as I captured his lips with my own, dragging my tongue along his lower lip before I took it between my teeth, giving it a soft tug. While my hands traveled down to his pants, slowly pressing my fingers under the band as I pushed my tongue past his parted lips, slowly losing myself to the taste of him as he pressed his hips against my own.
"Now now baby, there's no need to rush" I whispered against his lips as I slipped off his pants, noticing the fact he wasn't wearing any undergarments and the way his cock slowly started to leak pre-cum. "Already? I barley even touched you" The teasing tone of my voice forced a whimper past his throat as I wrapped my fingers around his cock, pressing my thumb against the slit and smearing his pre-cum around it before licking it off my fingers. "[Y-Y/n] please" I couldn't help but drag my tongue along my upper lip before leaning down to kiss along his jawline, threading my fingers through his soft black hair. Tightening my grip I yanked his head back, "Ah-!" His sudden moan caused my heart to thump and my core to tighten, reminding me of the uncomfortable erection in my pants while starring into those beautiful dark blue eyes of his.
"Now be a good boy and suck" I growled, pressing my fingers to his slightly parted lips as he wrapped his hands around my wrist and wrapped his tongue around my middle finger, skillfully coating my fingers in his saliva and I couldn't help but press the pad of my finger against the back of his tongue, hearing him gag a bit as he stuck out his tongue and looked up at me with a hazy gaze. "Absolutely stunning" I breathed out, instantly moving my hand so I could capture his lips with my own, feeling our noses slightly bump against each others as I took his lower lip between my teeth and trailed my hand down to his entrance, carefully circling my finger around the rim. "Are you ready?" I asked, looking into his eyes for a brief moment, waiting for his consent, "Yes- Please hurry.." He whimpered out as I nodded, slowly pushing my finger in so I wouldn't hurt him.
His soft moans and gasps caused a slow heat to rise to my face as I pushed in another finger, moving them in a scissoring motion to make sure he's stretched out enough to ensure I wouldn't hurt him, "Hah! F-Fuck, [Y/n] pl-please just fuck me!" I couldn't deny his pleading tone and immediately went to pull off my clothes, throwing them off into some other part of the room as Tomioka wrapped his legs around my hips, causing my cock to rub against his entrance. A low whimper slipped past his lips while I hooked one hand behind his knee, pushing his leg towards his chest as I positioned myself at his entrance, looking into his eyes for a brief moment before slowly pushing it. "Ngh- Hah!" The sound of his moans and the way his walls quickly tightened around me caused a low gutteral goan to rip past my throat, and I couldn't help but bring my hand up to wrap around his throat, as I've done many times before, watching as his pale skin turned a deeper shade of red as he wrapped his hands around my wrist.
"Damn, such a slut for me aren't you?" I smirked, fully pushing myself into him as I dug my fingers into the sides of his neck, making sure not to press against his throat as I began to rock my hips, searching for that one spot that always had him trembling beneath me, "Hah- Ah, [Y/n]!" Ah, there it is. Loosening my grip on his neck I pounded into him, aiming for his prostate as his moans and whimpers echoed throughout the room, my name rolling off his tongue like a prayer, causing my core tighten from the sound and the addicting way his walls tightened around me with each thrust. "Fuck.. You feel so good baby" I practically growled out the words through panted breaths, leaning down to press sloppy open mouth kisses along his shoulder as he desperately tightened his grip on my hips, "I'm, I'm going to-" His body began to tremble under me as he looked up at me with hazy eyes and a silent plead. "Go ahead baby, cum for me" Digging his nails into my wrist he came on his lower stomach as I quickly came after him, heavy pants slipping past both our parted lips as I pressed a gentle kiss against the newly formed bruise on his neck before reaching for the towel I was supposed to use to dry my hair an hour ago.
"Giyuu, are you okay?" I asked while cleaning us both off, noticing the way he was practically half-asleep already. "Yeah, just a bit sore.. But it was worth it" Not wanting to embarrass him I merely nodded my head, pretending I didn't hear that last bit as I laid down beside him, pulling the cover over our bare bodies. However I couldn't help but smile as he snuggled against my chest while I gently traced small circles on his hip.
"I love you.."
"I love you too Giyuu."
#x male reader#giyuu tomioka x male reader#giyuu tomioka x seme male reader#giyuu tomioka x top male reader#giyuu tomioka x dom male reader#x seme male reader#x dom male reader#x top male reader#demon slayer#demon slayer giyuu
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unexpected friend
fandom: ATEEZ
characters: choi san
reader: fem
word count: 5.4k
summary: fate decided to test this decade long feud between you and choi san
notes: enemies to lovers AU, toxic themes, character death, substance abuse (it’s not explicit) such as alcohol and cigarettes, heavy themes, language, violence
You had no idea where it started— you just knew that you hated Choi San with every fiber of your being. And unsurprisingly, the feeling is mutual with you.
Maybe it started in kindergarten when he accidentally pushed you to the ground in the game of tag. You got so mad at him, saying that he meant it when he obviously didn’t, calling him stupid because “all boys are stupid.”. Or maybe it started when you knocked over his tower of building blocks as revenge. Or was it when he dipped your pigtails in paint to get back at you? Or maybe the time he spread rumors that you had cooties causing everyone to avoid you like the plague.
Whatever the reason, it spiraled into a childhood rivalry that continued as you grew older. The endless cycle of cat versus dog, taking revenge on one another, followed into grade school, where you reached your horse phase and he reached his gun dam phase. It was inevitable you’d see him again— you both lived in a fairly small town after all.
Petty actions like drawing on the other’s homework turned into stealing each other’s lunches or setting some sort of prank at each other’s seats— whatever your ten-year-old brains could think of. Your screaming matches grew even worse and at one point, you both started throwing punches. The teachers always had to watch you during breaks because eventually, you’d be on top of each other and pulling at each other’s hair.
San had an advantage of course since he took taekwondo, you always ended up as the loser. But in retaliation, you managed to convince your mother to enroll you in some other martial art to protect yourself. And when you won your first little fistfight— you always made sure to lord it over him.
“Hah, you got beat by a little girl! Not so tough now huh potato-head?”
“Shut up horse-face!”
San saw your kindness and charisma towards others as an act. It was your own way of reeling others in to be on your side, gathering some sort of army to help you gang up against him. You on the other hand managed to convince yourself that his cute little dimples and selflessness for others was a facade, You couldn’t believe how many people he’s managed to fool or turn against you. And you’ve always hated him for that. You let it fester as you go through grade school and towards middle school. That hatred you harbored for him was always lit inside you.
Your parents and his were always apologizing to each other during parent-teacher meetings or school events, having to hold you back from jumping on one another. Your dad had given up on the whole thing so he was totally useless; that left you to run to your mother for comfort. Whatever the situation was, at the end of the day, she was always on your side.
“Things will blow over soon. But please, honey, try to stay out of trouble for me?”
So when she died in your junior year of high school, you couldn’t help but feel alone. Your dad had taken to smoking to cope with the loss, marrying a woman who was in love with alcohol while bringing her two hellish twin daughters with her into your home. Things grew miserable for you at home; your dad became a pathetic pushover, letting his new wife run the household. That made you angry— how could he get over your mother so easily? How could he let himself get walked over like that? How could he ignore the way your older step-sisters trampled all over you?
How could he let all this happen?
San’s endless taunting at school didn’t help either. His harmless pranks grew worse as time passed: spray-painting some nasty words on your locker, or setting a bucket of paint on top of the gym doors since you’re always the last one to head out. You’d heed your mother’s words, always doing your best to ignore him. For a while, it had worked and he pestered you less than usual but your mom’s death and the situation at home had triggered something in you, making you snap back. You’d shove his face down into his food during lunch or knock his books down the stairwell whenever you pass by each other. You had even managed to sneak some of the insects from the lab into his gym clothes, causing him to end up with nasty rashes all over his body for a week.
Your physical fights weren’t frequent but they became more violent, with one or both of you having to go to the nurses, holding an ice pack to your busted lips while a piece of gauze was stuck up his bloodied nose. It took several students or even teachers to pull you apart because most of the time no one wanted to jump in and separate you two; it was always so messy with fists and kicks flying everywhere. There was even one point where you both had to go to the hospital for fractured bones. You were both suspended for a week.
Fortunately, things had toned down now that you both were in your final year of high school with the pressure of college and meeting requirements looming over you. Although, neither of you managed to make up. You’d still exchange some foul words but the stupid pranks and fights had simmered down. That never meant you were on good terms though.
But then fate decided to be a little shit and put you in a situation you never thought you’d find yourself in.
Your new biology teacher didn’t seem to be informed about the decade-long feud between you and San. So when she assigned the both of you as partners, you felt your heart drop to your stomach as a sick feeling crawled over you. You wanted to cry and throw up at the same time- that’s just how much you despised him. You both tried to plead with her to change partners but she was as stubborn as a mule, insisting that you two can “sort out your differences” and finish this project as a team.
And now here you were, avoiding each other’s stares despite being sat next to each other. The proximity between you two was suffocating, it made it hard to focus on the project being explained to you by your cruel teacher. Your skin tingles unpleasantly whenever either of you shifted in your seat, your arms just several centimeters away from touching each other. Many thoughts ran through your head on how you can get out of this. But you knew that you had to find some time to work on the damn thing together or else you’d flunk high school— and being stuck in community college, never being able to leave this town, was not worth hitting San at the back of the head and gloating at him.
“You have the rest of the period to plan with each other. Make sure to have your presentation set and ready for next week.” Your teacher says and sits at her desk.
The room was filled with chatter as the students started conversing with each other. Many pairs threw knowing stares at you, worried that you’d be at each other’s throats. Surprisingly you weren’t… at least not yet anyway.
For a while, neither of you said anything to each other. San simply scrolled through his phone hidden under his desk while you organized your final notes. Minutes tick by and the class slowly comes to an end. With a heavy sigh, you decided to swallow your pride and talk to the guy.
You turn to the boy, roughly shoving his knee with yours and he sends you an irritated glare. “C’mon we need to plan for this.” You deadpan, ignoring the look he gave you.
San returned the sigh and pocketed his phone, shifting to face you. “Alright then. So what’s the plan?”
“That’s what we’re supposed to be talking about, dumbass.” You mutter, growing irritated. You clench your fists together in an attempt to keep your calm before continuing. “Anyway, we’re supposed to make some model of the nerve cells then present it.”
San stays quiet for a moment before speaking up. “My sister has some spare clay and wires from her sculpting hobby. I could ask for some.”
“Great. You work on that while I work on the script.” You conclude before going back to your notes.
“Hold on- you’re gonna leave me with all of the hard work?”
“We have the same workload?? I’m making the script.”
“That’s easy- scripts can be finished within a day or something.” San shot back, finding the arrangement you had set, without his consultation by the way, as unfair.
“Then I’ll help you when I’m done. Quit whining like a bitch.” You sigh, having no energy to continue the argument with him.
“Asshat…” He mumbles under his breath, pulling out his phone to text his sister. He expected some sort of retaliation from you but you simply remained quiet. That was odd- considering that you never missed the chance to have the last word in. Maybe you just weren’t feeling it today.
Nevertheless, he ignored you, deciding that it wasn’t worth pestering you at the moment. The bell rings, signaling the end of the class, and you’re immediately up and out of your seat, stuffing your notebook into your bag and swinging it over your shoulder. It almost hits San’s cheek in the process but you were already walking out the door before he could call you out on it.
“Geez…” He huffs and keeps his own things, glaring after you while hoping that time would fly by fast so that the project was done and over with.
~~
A few days have passed by since the biology class. True enough, you’ve finished writing and even printing the script within the day the project was assigned to you. So now you were stuck helping out San with sculpting the whole model. You two would work together at the back of the library after school. Initially the librarian was hesitant about letting the two of you inside given your reputation and all. But when she saw that neither of you were at each other’s throats, surprisingly, she allowed for you to work on it in the library.
Of course you and San still had some disputes— how it’s supposed to be positioned, what shape it’s supposed to take, yadda yadda. But it had never escalated into a full blown argument because it always ended up with you taking the blow of his harsh words. That alone started to concern the boy, you’d always get back at him. But your resigned silence after every quip he threw at you started to worry him. Sure he hated your guts but San wasn’t a nasty person. He knew something was bothering you. But, he never took the initiative to ask what was bothering you; it wasn’t his problem anyway.
~~
A weekend away from Monday aka the day of your presentation. The model was almost done— it just needed a paint job. Since it was a Saturday afternoon, meaning the school was closed, neither of you were able to work at your usual spot. So San decided to just take the whole thing to your home to finish it. Of course he could finish the whole thing himself but he had a party to attend later in the evening, and he didn’t want to miss out on it.
He arrives at your home, model in one hand and a crate of paints in the other. He takes note of the absence of your dad’s and step-sister’s cars in the driveway and assumed that you were all out. He sighs in frustration, hoping that that wasn’t the case. Jogging up to the porch, the boy sets down the crate and rings the doorbell a couple of times, foot tapping against the wooden floorboards as he waits.
When there was no response after a few minutes he tried again, this time ringing the doorbell a bit more frantically. Before he could turn around and head back home after getting no response, he hears frantic footsteps scurrying inside and steps back as the door swings open. There you were, hair looking like a bird’s nest while your week-old cardigan hung off your shoulders. There were dark circles under your eyes and you looked like a hobo who had the opportunity to clean after themselves. In other words: you were a mess.
“The fuck are you doing here?” You snap the minute your hazy mind registers that San was standing at your door.
The said boy snaps out of his own trance and shoves the model in your face. “We need to finish this.”
You stare at the figure in his hand then to the crate by his foot and then to his face that displayed an expectant expression. You sigh and rub your face. “Couldn’t you have finished it yourself?”
“I’m busy later.”
Another sigh leaves you and you step back to let him in. He enters the house, leaving his shoes by the door as he looks around the place. It was a bit messier than he had expected. There were rumpled coats hanging off of the arm of the couch, a small pack of cigarettes and a few bottles of cheap beer on the coffee table. The wallpaper was starting to fade with a few faint stains here and there.
San stays quiet as he follows you through the house, seeing the small stack of dishes waiting to be washed in the sink. He turns back to look at you, finding your silence as unnerving. You only trudged up the stairs, motioning for you to follow him. He expected to see you turn down the hallway and enter one of the rooms but was quite surprised to see you stop by a frayed rope hanging from the ceiling of the hall. You reach up and tug down on it, revealing the ladder towards the attic.
“Don’t tell me you live up there,” San jabs.
“Yeah and what of it?” You grumble, sending him a tired glare over your shoulder before climbing up the ladder.
He was stunned into silence when he realized that you were serious. He bites his tongue and refrains from jeering at you, handing the box of paints to you before climbing up. Several thoughts ran through his mind— why was your room in an attic? And since when did you start smoking and drinking? Was it even yours?
His head pokes into the surprisingly clean but small room. Your bed was pressed up near the slanted wall of the roof, several polaroids of you, your few friends, and your mother plastered along it. On the opposite side was your desk and your wardrobe whose paint was starting to chip off. Several boxes, labeled and not labeled, were pushed to the corner of the room, stacked in a way for them to take up less space.
San looks to you rummaging through your desk, probably finding a brush or something. He wordlessly steps into the room and pulls the rope, closing the trapdoor beneath him. He turns to you again and before he could stop himself, he found himself blurting the question that was plaguing his mind: “What the hell happened to you?”
You turn on your heel, almost knocking over the picture frame of you and your mom. Your hand reached out to steady it before answering San. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”
“Why do you live up here?” He motioned to the whole attic space with his arm. “Don’t you have a room downstairs?”
“I do.” You simply say and take the crate of paints, pulling out the needed colors and some paper cups for you to place them in.
When you don’t elaborate, San squats down to your level on the ground and tugs the purple paint tube out your hand. “What happened to it?”
“Why do you care?” You snatch the tube back with a hiss, preparing all the things needed. “It’s none of your business…”
The boy sighs, running a hand through his dark locks. He nibbles at his cheeks, carefully going over what he wanted to say. “...look, _____,” he starts, voice surprisingly gentle. “You don’t have to tell me everything but you don’t have to keep everything in.”
You don’t answer him or make any move to acknowledge what he had said. But you were listening; part of you decided to take down your walls for just a moment and hear what he has to say. And San seemed to sense this because he continues.
“I’m not gonna say that ‘I’m here for you’ and all that crap but, there are people who're willing to listen to you. Whatever you’re going through right now, no matter how big or small it is, you don’t have to go through it alone.”
Again, you don’t respond. A moment of silence full of high strung tension passed by. It was only a few seconds but it felt longer than that— especially since you both stopped in what you were doing and stared at the ground or at each other’s hands.
You always hated San but you couldn’t help but sense the sincerity in his words. It’s kind of pathetic but at the moment, his genuinity, the softness of the way he spoke was what you were craving for. At that moment, you just wanted assurance that things will be okay and that whatever you were doing in life wasn’t useless. And the guy you seemed to hate most was offering you that.
Tears prick at your eyes and you hastily brush it away with the sleeve of your cardigan, refusing to show any weakness to your nemesis. But it was hard; once the tears started flowing it was difficult for you to stop. You play it off by finishing up in preparing the paints, suppressing any hiccups or sobs that would escape before eventually giving up and bringing your legs up to your chin, crying into your sweats. Fuck it if San sees.
You curled up into yourself, crying into your pants when you felt a gentle but hesitant hand on your shoulder. You jolt at the touch, seeing San back away quickly. His brows were furrowed in concern and his lips were pursed, almost as if he were thinking about what he was going to say.
“G-go on, gloat,” You hiccup, choking on your tears. “I look like a m-mess anyway…”
You were surprised, and a little bit embarrassed, that he didn’t follow with what you said. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small packet of tissues and handing it over to you. He looked up to your desk, seeing your water container on your desk. He stands up to take it, shaking it to check if there was still some water in it, before placing it by your foot.
“I’m not going to lie, you are a mess,” San says before returning to his previous spot on the floor. “But I guess that’s normal when you’re having a shitty day.”
“More like a shitty life…” You mumble. You chug down the rest of your water, managing to stop your tears as you wipe them away with the tissues. You look up at the boy across you and sigh heavily. “It’s my step-mom,” you say.
“I’m sorry?”
“My step-mom. She made me move up here so that her daughters could take my room.” You explain. “My dad didn’t say anything because he’s a pushover, wasting his life away on cigarettes and the alcohol his wife buys…”
San nods slowly in understanding, finally making sense of what he saw in the living room and kitchen. That explained a lot of things: why you would always faintly smell of alcohol or nicotine a few months after your mother had died. It had honestly shocked him to hear that— your dad and step-mom always looked presentable in public. Your step-sisters were a bit more extravagant but neat nonetheless. The way they talked and carried themselves didn’t seem to indicate that they had any substance addiction.
Thinking back on it, it had also explained why you were so irate and moody almost all the time, leading to you losing some friends in high school as you fell back into yourself or into violence. It was a defense mechanism— you didn’t want to seem vulnerable because at home, you were vulnerable enough.
An idea pops into his head and he promptly stands up, momentarily making you jump from his sudden movement. You look up at him, puzzled. “What?”
“Come with me.”
“What???”
“I said get up and come with me.” San says and actually held his hand out to you.
You look at it skeptically before looking up at him, contemplating about any consequences in following him— if there were any. He wiggles his fingers, impatiently coaxing you to join him and you finally make up your mind. Might as well follow him; you had nothing to lose anyway.
You swat his hand away to get up on your own, mumbling something along the lines that you could get up yourself before straightening yourself out and placing your hands on your hips. He gives a satisfied nod and grabs his shoes to put them on. He then kicks open the trapdoor before heading back down for you to follow.
He returns to the living room with you trailing behind, still wondering where exactly he wanted you to go. When you glance at the clock you see that it’s already 5:30 in the afternoon. Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt something land by your feet. You whipped your head around to see San pointing at your shoes which he probably threw at you from the door.
“We’re heading out for a while.” He says as he exits your house. You take a moment to process what was happening when he pops his head in. “Come on slowpoke.” He ushers you.
You hastily throw on your shoes, grabbing the house keys hanging by the coat rack, and hop out of the house. You lock the door behind you and approach San who was sitting upon his notoriously loud motorbike. “Where are we going?” You ask, settling down behind him.
Your arms awkwardly flutter beside you, opting to hold onto whatever space was left on your seat. You jump in surprise when you hear and feel the engine roar to life, eliciting an amused chuckle from the boy in front of you. You glare at the back of his head, smacking his shoulder and settling yourself once more.
“Hold on tight,” San tells you as he revs up the motorbike.
“I am.” You argue and strengthen your grip on the seat, shaking the bike a little to emphasize your point.
“No you aren’t.” You feel heat rise to your face when he tutted in annoyance, taking your arms and placing them around his waist. “There you go. See? No harm done.”
You only grumble something in response, making him chuckle to himself. It was a bit strange to see you tame like this. Sure it kind of boosted his ego considering that he managed to make you flustered with just a few words and a simple action but he actually kind of liked it when you weren’t at each other’s throats. He revved up the engine again before taking off and speeding down the road.
The evening breeze is cool as it whips through your hair and brushes against you, sending small goosebumps running down your skin. A small yelp escapes you when San picks up speed, causing your grip on him to tighten. He glanced back at you for a moment before taking the turn that exits the town and towards the road uphill. It led to the small forest that overlooked the city; it was a popular place in town for hiking or camping. You remember going there to play as a kid.
The air gets chillier as you both reach a higher altitude. You unconsciously nuzzle closer to the boy in front of you in an attempt to seek some body heat. The sky grows darker, turning into a deeper blue shade as the night slowly creeps upon the town. Some stars start to peek and settle themselves in the dark blanket of the sky by the time San slows down to a stop. He had stopped by the edge of the forest, a metal railing along the opposite end to keep people or vehicles from falling off the edge.
“We’re here.” San says and looks back at you. “You can let go if you want now.”
At that, you peel yourself away from him and hop off his bike mumbling something about how cocky he was while walking over to the railings. He joins you soon after, keeping a respectable distance from you. None of you say anything at first, simply taking in the view of the city in front of you. Now know why San took you out here: to breathe and clear your mind of things; something that you didn’t know you needed at the moment.
The spot you were in allowed you to overlook the town, seeing the lights from the roads and houses down below. You could spot the water tower in the distance along with the radio tower next to it. As you survey the scene before you, you make out one house in the distance with a multitude of colored lights flashing around it.
“Looks like someone’s having a party.” You muse, finally breaking the silence.
San hums in acknowledgement. “I hope they aren’t missing me.”
It takes a moment for you to understand what he said, perking up when it made sense to you. “So that’s what you meant when you were ‘busy.’” You say as you lightly punch his arm. “You’re such an ass.”
“What? I wasn’t lying; I would’ve been busy.” He defends himself, holding his hands up in surrender.
“Yeah,” You huff. “Busy shoving your tongue down people’s throats.”
A mischievous hum. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Ew no, gross- I’ll pass.”
You share a small laugh together before settling into silence again. It was… kind of cathartic, being able to actually laugh for a long while-even if it was with your longtime nemesis. It was better than crying yourself to sleep almost every night.
You turn to lean your back against the railing, using your arms to support you as you mull over the forest.
“I used to come here a lot as a kid.” You say, managing to capture San’s attention. “Pretended to gallop along the trees like some sort of princess when I was in my horse phase… I would always come home with scraped knees. I was a clumsy kid.”
“Except when you’d throw punches at me,” San interjected, ghosting a hand over his jaw. “You sure knew how to pack a punch.”
You smile apologetically, a sheepish flush on your cheeks, and look over to him. “Well you did deliver some pretty good kicks- I needed to learn how to defend myself.”
San shrugged in agreement. “I guess,” He muses and offers you a small smile, lapsing into silence again. “You know… it’s actually kind of surprising but you aren’t so bad to talk to.”
You nibble at your lower lip at his confession, unsure of what to make of it. When you look up at him, you see that he had inched a little closer to you. He still kept a reasonable amount of space between you two but it was apparent that he wanted to get closer. He drums his fingers against the cool metal of the railing, brows furrowed as he thinks over his next words carefully.
“I’m sorry.” He blurts out. “I’m sorry for all the times I’ve been an asshole to you. I know that I’ve hurt you, not just physically, but emotionally too. And I want to apologize for that… I know, words are just words. It won’t do anything to reverse or take back what I’ve done to you then, but please, take it as a first step to making it up to you.”
San decided to meet your watery gaze, his chest clenching at the tears you were trying so hard to hold back. He holds his hand out instinctively, wanting to offer some sort of physical comfort. He stops himself midway, opting to just settle it on the rail halfway from you. “You don’t have to make a decision right here and now. You can still hate me all you want, but I promise to leave you alone from now on.”
You whimper pathetically, finally letting the tears flow down your cheeks. You felt guilt consume you at his apology. Why was he taking the blame for everything? It should be you who was saying sorry. After all,you were just as cruel as him. And thinking back on it, this feud had most likely started with you. You raise a sweater paw to wipe at your tears, sobbing into your hand.
God you were a mess.
“Don’t, don’t blame yourself… I should be apologizing too. It takes two to tango right?” You hiccup, managing to give him a shaky smile. “I could’ve chosen to ignore you or direct my anger elsewhere but I still ended up targeting you at the end of the day…”
“_______, it’s okay—“
“No it’s not.” You hiss. “I’m not just talking about what I did in high school. I’m talking about every instance I was cruel to you. It was petty, extremely childish, and just horrible overall. I don’t expect you to forgive me but I want to apologize too. I’ve made part of your life a living hell.”
You glance at his hand on the railing before holding your own out towards him. “Truce?” You offer. “We don’t have to be all buddy-buddy after this but at least we can just end this whole thing.”
San gripped your hand in a gentle but firm handshake. “Truce.” His touch lingered for
just a second before he gave a gentle squeeze and pulled away. He returned it to the previous spot on the railing.
The both of you remain for a while, just overlooking the town and reflecting on what had happened. The quiet atmosphere that you both shared suddenly didn’t seem so awkward anymore. Instead, it was filled with some tension but with a bit of comfort at the same time. It was similar to the feeling of a thorn being plucked out of your side: painful but relief that it was finally out.
You don’t expect that things would go right at once— this wasn’t like the movies or the books where everything was magically solved. You both had left some scars on each other, some that are too hard to forget or too deep to heal easily. But you two were working on it: healing and forgiving each other. It was still a long journey but it was something you were both willing to go on together.
You glance to San, seeing how relaxed he was right now. He didn’t look so annoying or so terrifying anymore. A tiny grin makes its way to your lips; never in a million years did you think you’d find solace in someone you despised so much.
“Hey San,” You call out to him, resting your hand beside his, your pinkies brushing against each other. “...thanks for this. I really needed it.”
He smiles at you, flashing his cute dimples at you. It sends a warm, tingly feeling down your spine and you couldn’t help but feel calm at that. “Glad I could help.” He momentarily pat the back of your hand, engulfing it with his larger one when you didn’t pull away.
It was late when he drove you home to finish the project. Unsurprisingly, your family was still out, probably at an event they forgot to tell you about. But you didn’t mind, you had an unexpected friend with you right now.
You smile to yourself as you wave goodbye to San from the doorway, seeing him speed down the road and into the night. He may have been the bad guy in your life but it turns out, he wasn’t such a bad guy. And you were thankful that you were able to see that because at least you knew you had someone in your corner.
#ficscafe#ateez#ateez x reader#ateez smut#ateez imagines#ateez angst#ateez choi san#choi san x reader#ateez san#ateez headcanons
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La Dolce Vita
Part II
On the Wings of Desire
Warnings: Language
(I had to split this chapter into two because it was getting too long. Hence, no sexy times, but angst galore) Comments and reblogs and likes are always appreciated! Let me know what you think.
Chapter One is here
Two Years Ago
Azriel
Azriel pulled up to the flower shop.
There was a surprise that he wanted to share with Elain, and like a young boy on his first date, he was both excited and nervous. But he hoped that she’d like it. Funny how he still got a little nervous with her, exuberant even.
It’s been three months since they’ve met and he loved every minute that they’d spent together. The nature of their relationship was a little undefined, but he didn’t care. So what if they weren’t ‘dating’? So there weren’t official dinners and outings, to show only the best part of each other to one another? They moved beyond that right away. They simply loved being together. It was inexplicable, how quickly it happened, how easy it was between the two of them, but Azriel could never get enough of Elain.
He came to her shop whenever he wanted, helped her out, hung out with her, and she went to the garage to meet him. If he was busy and couldn’t meet with her, she closed her shop for lunch, and brought him a sandwich, so they could eat together. He loved it, even if he actually had a restaurant and a bar on premises and she technically didn’t need to buy him food. But there was something special about her coming up the stairs to his office, dressed in one of her cute, flowery dresses and heels. Every time it was a different sandwich, a different drink and a different snack—sometimes a cookie, or good chocolate, or weird chips, or a full-on pastry with cream and ganache and whatnot. He developed a strange fascination with his lunch options, never knowing what it would be and eagerly anticipating it.
Sometimes, he took her on long rides—one of their favourite past times. If he knew that she was up to her eyeballs with orders, since this was summer and it seemed like everyone was getting married, he would bring her takeout to the shop, and they’d sit and arrange flowers until the wee hours. When things calmed down, and there was a quiet evening ahead, she usually invited him to come and eat at her place. They cooked together, drank wine, and then went for a walk.
They haven’t had a kiss yet.
Did it bother him? He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t dream of Elain all the time, of her supple, soft body, of how she’d look naked, of how she’d feel when he filled her, what sounds she’d make, what her face would look like when she climaxed around him? Was she a screamer? A beggar? Was she loud or quiet and shy?
She never spoke of her past boyfriends, so he had no idea of how many men she’s been with. Secretly, he hoped that it wasn’t too many. Maybe it was some male thing, but the idea of her with another man, the thought of someone else touching her, making her moan, making her love—it didn’t please him at all. He thought that he was more modern, more advanced in his thinking—and usually he was—but in this case, he was struggling with accepting Elain wrapped around some other male.
Surprisingly, even though it wasn’t even 6 pm yet, the flowers that usually spilled outside the shop were not gracing the pavement and the shop looked closed for the day. But Azriel went and knocked on the glass door anyway, seeing as there was some light coming from Elain’s office in the back. There was no response, but he knocked even harder, almost banging, until he heard Elain’s muffled voice yelling, “we are closed!”
“Laney, open up! It’s me!”
A few moments later, Elain appeared in the darkness and then the door opened.
And his jaw almost dropped.
She stood in front of him, wearing a slinky, satin, cobalt dress that looked almost like lingerie. Of modest length, it nevertheless emphasized her breasts very enticingly: soft and full, and pushed together just enough to create a hint of delicious cleavage. A simple set of glittering silver chains nestled seductively in that yummy valley between her breasts. One bare foot was clad in a strappy silver sandal, while she held the other, and jumped awkwardly on one foot, balancing herself on the doorframe. Her hair was curled and arranged over one naked shoulder.
He struggled to keep his breath from whooshing loudly.
“Whoa…”
“Hi Az,” she sounded…uncomfortable.
“Hey you. Hot date?” he chuckled, eyes gliding from her pretty toes up to her eyes.
Her throat bobbed and she didn’t answer.
Shit.
He fought the urge to cross his arms on his chest. But then he’d look threatening, towering over her, much like his father did when he was in one of his moods. Azriel swore to himself long ago to never, ever cross his arms with women.
“I didn’t think you’d be coming over,” she began, voice wobbling.
“So, you figured that you could sneak out?” he spat unkindly.
“I am not sneaking out!” she snapped, flushed and defiant. “I am going out,”
“With whom?” he demanded.
He and Elain had never fought. Never even disagreed.
They laughed together. They joked and discussed. They argued over books and movies. They talked about design, food and travel, places they wanted to visit, and things they wanted to see. Elain randomly texted him names of 3 and 2 Michelin star restaurants from all over the world, telling him where she wanted to dine, why, and eagerly opining on the menus.
Elain was his.
His little foodie, who was a fearless eater, and sampled just about everything and anything.
Elain was his.
His little art lover, who had a surprisingly wide breadth of knowledge of painting, art history and strong opinions on artists and styles. When he found out that she adored Balthus and that Egon Schiele was her favourite artist of all time, his respect for her only increased.
Elain was his.
His little intellectual, who read Anna Akhmatova’s poetry, listened to Alain Elkann’s podcast, and who could easily talk about the history of Lamborghini or Aston Martin, and Formula 1, just to satisfy him.
What the fuck was this?
Why was his Elain going on some date with another man?
Anger rose in him so quickly; he had a difficult time stopping his hands from shaking. So, he clasped them behind his back.
“It’s none of your business,” she said coldly. “I don’t have to report to you who I am going out with,”
“You don’t?” he demanded absurdly.
“No, I don’t!”
“Please tell me who he is?” he decided on a different approach. His brain was working furiously, trying to dissuade her, yet not anger her, yet find out as much information as possible.
“No!” she shook her head stubbornly. “Why do you even care?”
Why did he care? WHY did he care?
He couldn’t have been misreading all the signs. He couldn’t have been misreading her interest, her acceptance, her want.
There was no doubt in his mind that she wanted him—emotionally, as a friend, as a partner, as a lover. Reading people was his job, his calling, and he’d never been wrong. He certainly wasn’t wrong with Elain—she was an open book to him. He didn’t need to evaluate her reactions to his company to know that she was absolutely enthralled with him.
So why this?
Was it something he did? There were no hints of anything amiss the last time they’d seen each other. They were at her place, they cooked Italian together—spaghetti and clams—and he opened a bottle of Petilia Greco di Tufo, a pure, harmonious white from Campania. Then they went to the rooftop—their favourite place—and watched the city, enjoying gelato and playing cards.
Squeezing his hands behind his back, he demanded, “Has he been vetted?”
“Vetted? Vetted?” she exclaimed incredulously. “Who is going to be doing this vetting?”
She stared at him and bit out,
“I don’t like this side of you. This is crazy behaviour,”
“Why? Because you are going on a date? Suddenly. Unexpectedly.”
At that, she blushed furiously, squirming under his heavy, icy gaze.
He continued, “And with some guy you refuse to tell me anything about. Have you told Cass?”
“What? What exactly is Cass? My father?”
“Cass runs security for,”
“I know what Cass does!” she cried, looking furious, but also uncomfortable. Insecure. Anxious. “But I am not telling him. Leave me alone. I am not telling anyone,”
“Not even Nesta? Elide?” he demanded. “And what if something happens?”
“What’s going to happen?!” she asked nervously.
Nothing.
Probably nothing.
He was being an overbearing creep, but he couldn’t stop.
He needed to know. And yes, he wanted her to be safe.
“Who knows?” he shrugged menacingly. “He is unvetted. No one knows anything about him. Have you even Googled him?”
She blushed.
That’s a no.
“Unless you tell me his name, I am not leaving,” he warned. “I need to know who you are going to be with.”
“I am not telling you.”
“Fine,” he propped himself against the door. “We’ll just stand here.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
The standoff continued for another few minutes, until, exasperated, she blurted,
“His name is Dorian!”
“Dorian. As in Dorian Gray?”
She rolled her eyes. “How funny.”
He took out his phone and asked, “Does Dorian have a last name?”
“Are you seriously going to Google him?”
“Absolutely I will. Since you didn’t.”
“I am not telling you.”
“Fine,” he shrugged. “I’ll await Dorian’s arrival and have a man-to-man talk with him,”
She paled.
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Watch me.”
She glared at him, and then sneered, “Why don’t you invite Lorcan too! And Rowan. So the three of you can stand here, in your freaky silent vigil and glare at him, to scare him off.”
“Good idea.”
She shrugged, “And when Dorian comes here, you three can tower over him.”
“Why? Is he tiny?” Azriel snorted.
She rolled her eyes and then thrust her foot into her other heel, finally. As she tied it around her ankle, she muttered angrily, “so disappointed in you,”
“Get in line,” he snapped.
“Adarlan,”
“What?”
“His last name is Adarlan.”
Azriel immediately typed the name into the phone.
A pretty white boy. Columbia. Pre-law.
Figures.
Of course, someone like that would want someone like Elain. And she’d want him in return. Pretty, proper. Pathetic.
“Satisfied?” she rose to her full height. Her cheeks were flushed, brown eyes gleaming with anger and challenge.
She was so beautiful and so annoyed with him, Azriel was blinded by her, by her light, her spirit.
“Not for a while,” he said blandly and shrugged.
That made her redden. Not the blush of anger. Her sexy blush.
So, he went for it.
“Call it off,” he begged.
“What?”
“Call it off. Please.”
“Why?”
Because you are mine.
He wanted to tell her. To explain.
But did he deserve her? All that light and goodness? Perhaps, pretty boy Dorian was indeed more appropriate.
“Because,” he began and then heard a car pull up behind him.
Steps.
He didn’t turn around.
“Elain.”
“Dorian.”
Her face lit up with a smile.
“Ready?”
She nodded. “Just let me grab my bag.”
When she disappeared, Azriel turned around at last.
Dorian was good looking, tall, thin. Young. Looked like a kid, though Azriel figured that he wasn’t much younger than him. But Azriel’s lived about 540 years by now…at least that’s how it felt, and Dorian—Dorian probably had many girlfriends, many friends, and daddy’s money.
He was about as interesting as a bag of beans.
They stared at each other.
Azriel didn’t give a shit.
He didn’t care about anything, other than this is what Elain chose. This Dorian may end up holding Elain’s hand. Perhaps going in for a kiss. That sensuous weak mouth may touch Elain’s perfect lips—the lips that Azriel only dreamt of kissing. And what if it went further?
What if,
No.
No.
Elain was not a ‘first date sex’ kind of girl. Never. Not his Elain.
“Treat her well,” he growled a warning.
Dorian blinked.
“What?”
“Treat. Elain. Well.”
“Who are you?”
“Consider me her brother-in-law.”
“Oh. Okay. Alright. Sure, man. Yeah.”
Fucking intellectual powerhouse.
“I am one of many,”
“Many what?” Dorian asked in confusion.
“Many brothers-in-law. And they all look like me. Some are even bigger.”
“Ready?!” Elain chirped.
“Um, yeah,” Dorian’s eyes darted back and forth.
Azriel finally gave up and crossed his arms on his chest.
“Have fun you two,” he said sweetly.
“Thank you. I’ll see you at Rhys’s pool party on Saturday,” Elain acted like everything was normal.
“Sure. Bring Dorian along,” Azriel jerked his chin. “We’ll be delighted to have him.”
Elain
“He is a charmer,” Dorian finally exhaled once they were inside the car.
She grunted in response.
“Does he have enough tattoos?” he started to reverse. “Oh, look, a Ferrari,”
“It’s his,” she bit the inside of her cheek, glancing quickly at the unmoving figure under the awning.
“His? What is he? A drug dealer?”
“Dorian!” she snapped. She was so on edge, she sat on her shaking hands the moment she buckled up.
“Sorry. Sorry. But really, do you want me to,”
She interrupted,
“What? Are you offering to beat him up?”
“I mean,”
“Dorian. He is a Navy Seal,” she said bluntly. “His bicep is the circumference of my head. His buddies are all pushing 6”7 in height and are all former Navy Seals. I am just saying. You aren’t taking him on.”
Dorian didn’t feel the need to disagree.
Azriel
Elain was his home. She was his happy place. His joy.
Her smile made everything better.
When she touched him--his fingers, his cheek—that touch carried more sensual promise than anything he’d ever experienced. And he’d experienced plenty.
Azriel’s only brush with love was when he was 18 and it was right before Morgana fucked Cassian, lost her virginity to him and got pregnant by him. He wondered if that’s what fucked him up, turned him off love for this past decade. Ploughing through endless bodies felt good, though he was usually left with the feeling of residual emptiness and longing. But he accepted it.
Elain though. He didn’t plough into Elain. Never even so much as seen her breast. And yet, his head was filled with her. Images, both erotic and mundane floated through his brain constantly. Elain’s eyes lighting up when he called her ‘baby’. Elain tasting a pastry, in her own special way, sometimes dipping her finger into the cream, and driving him wild. Elain reclining her golden head on the seat of his car, eyes closed. Elain being a little drill master when it came to arranging flowers, absolutely unperturbed by the idea of ordering Rowan and Cassian and Fen around.
That Elain was offering her smile, her time, her attention to that pretty prick Dorian was just intolerable.
If he could, he would actually climb the walls. But Azriel couldn’t climb walls, even if parkour-loving Fenrys would probably teach him how. Therefore, he went back to the shop, where Nuala was just packing up for the day.
“I need your car,” he demanded.
“We are in a garage,” she reminded him reasonably, but nevertheless tossed her keys to him. He caught them with one hand and said, “I owe you one.”
“You owe me like fifty…but who is counting?”
Nuala didn’t know why he needed her car, but she did know that he was beyond pining, at this point. He was in full love mode. As in LOVE. Capital letters, heart palpitations, sleepless nights, acting-like-a-drug-addict LOVE. Who would have thought? Not only that Azriel would fall in love at all, but that it would be with Elain.
Azriel got into Nuala’s ordinary Acura, drove to Elain’s apartment, and kept vigil the very same way she told him he would.
At this point, he didn’t care at all. He sat and waited in his shadows. Waiting like this—he learned this level of patience back in the Navy, during his recon missions—suited him, and his personality. Lorcan and he could sit like this for hours. Days. They weren’t bothered at all. Cassian and Fenrys would whine, complain and bounce like little children.
Shadows were his friends, as they’d always been, since he was a boy and hid from his abusive father. They protected him then, and concealed him now.
Finally, at an acceptable, and slightly boring, 11:23 pm, Dorian’s generic Audi pulled up.
There was no way that either of them would spot him, or assume that he was around.
Dorian opened the door for Elain, and she stepped out. They talked. She smiled. Then laughed.
It all grated on Azriel’s nerves. Go inside! He wanted to shout to her.
Then, Dorian made a move. Azriel tensed, when the pretty boy reached his hand out and ran his knuckles over Elain’s bare shoulder. The hand stopped entirely too close to her breast, as he squeezed her upper arm, holding her close. If Azriel sensed even the tiniest expression of discomfort from her, he’d be flying out of the car in a snap.
They talked some more, that gross hand still resting on Elain’s arm. But then, she opened her arms and Azriel grimaced. No way. No way was she going for a kiss.
And thank all the gods above, but she only hugged him, and not a close hug either—but that awkward, butts-out, shoulders pressed together weird hug. Something males typically gave each other, so careful to avoid any penile interaction. Then she walked to her building and gave Dorian a little wave. He hopped in his car and drove away.
What a prick. Didn’t even wait for her to get inside.
But she stood still, door unopened, keys in her fingers. And then, she peered into the darkness. A long, penetrating gaze. Aimed right at him. Like she saw through the shadows. She looked and looked, and he melted in the shadows, into the darkness of the car.
And then she flipped him off, and walked inside.
Elain
Piled into Lorcan’s Range Rover, it was Elain ad Elide, Lorcan and Connall in the car.
It was a nice day for a pool party, for a long drive to the Hamptons, for enjoying the sunshine.
Elain was having none of it.
She hated this idea to begin with—pool parties—which were full of too-rich and affected young people, prancing around in skimpy underwear. The women too perfect. The men, full of unreasonable expectations.
Feyre and Morrigan liked this crap, Cassian too, Aelin—certainly.
All the people with their perfect bodies and big hair and bigger personalities.
This Range Rover was like the car for outcasts.
Lorcan looked like he wanted to be at a pool party as much as he wanted to have a rectal exam. Connall, she was sure, would just sit by the bar and nurse drinks all day long. Elide would always find an escape with Lor, and the two of them would huddle together and make snide comments about the attendees to each other.
Elain sighed.
She was such a stupid, inexcusably dumb, fucking idiot.
“Do you know why Az isn’t coming today?” Lorcan looked at her in the mirror.
“Oh?”
She bit inside of her cheek, stifling a pathetic cry.
It shouldn’t have surprised her that Azriel decided not to attend, but she still harbored hope, somewhere inside of her that he would. That they’d be able to talk. That he’d…
Forgive her?
“No, I don’t know,” she mumbled.
“Did you have a fight or something?” Lorcan’s strange black eyes looked at her like they were scraping the edges of her soul. It wasn’t the most comfortable of feelings.
“No.”
She spent the rest of the trip in sullen silence. Even Elide didn’t try to shake her out of her stupor.
As expected, the party was ridiculously over the top.
There were throngs of people milling about, all in various stages of undress. Firm, golden flesh gleamed in the sunlight.
There were three bars—one for beer, one for cocktails and one for everything else. An ice cream station. A s’mores station. Wagyu beef sliders. Lobster hot dogs. Jamon Iberico. Wheels of Parmigiano Reggiano.
Deep down, Elain was grateful that she’d never be this wealthy.
She was happy with her flowers, her shop, and she was considering opening a pastry shop down the road. And then Azriel had his wonderful garage, but successful as it was, it wasn’t on the Darling level of wealth…And that was alright. It was perfectly enough, too much even,
She stopped.
She should’ve just told him. Everything. A long time ago. But the intensity of her own feelings towards him frightened her, and then…she fucked it all up.
She meandered absently around the premises, listening to Feyre’s and Nesta’s screeching from the pool, where both were perched on the shoulders of their respective lovers, whacking each other and others with long plastic poles. Mor and her new girlfriend were making out passionately in a hammock. Fenrys was swarmed by a bevy of busty beauties. And so on…
She was feeling foolish and exposed in her pink bikini, wishing she had a wrap or something. Her body was no worse than all of these other girls’, but she couldn’t help but compare herself to them. They were confident. Exciting. Entertaining. They flirted and laughed loudly. They had sparkly teeth and giant lips.
She didn’t know how to flirt, and wasn’t glamorous or polished like them.
“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone? Without a drink?”
A man sidled over, his bold eyes roaming about her body, assessing.
“I am fine, thank you,” she made to get away and walk towards the pool, but he thrust an insistent hand in front of her, holding a drink.
“Come on, sugar. Join me.”
Sugar?
And then, there were four of them. Five.
None were threatening, but being surrounded by so many men, while basically naked was outside of Elain’s comfort zone. They were joking, laughing, chugging their beers. She didn’t know any of them.
“So, who are you?” asked one of them.
“A guest.”
She angled her body towards the pool, trying to sneak past them.
“A guest? We are guests too! Nice party,”
“It is. Pardon me, I have to go,”
“But why?”
One of them caught her hand in his and pulled lightly, grounding her in place.
“Excuse me!” she attempted to withdraw her hand, but he didn’t budge. They herded her a little closer to the house. A sixth man approached, carrying a little tray with tequila shots.
“Where do you got to go, baby?”
Another hand slipped down her back and brushed over her butt, making her jerk.
“What the hell?” she hissed, but her indignation was met with amused smiles.
“Such a pretty girl, all alone. Come, join us,”
“I am not alone!” she snapped angrily.
“Oh no?”
“And who are you with?”
“My fucking boyfriend!” she lied, a little scared now.
“Oh, a boyfriend?” teased one. “And who might that be?”
“Do we know this boyfriend? Where is he?”
She looked around desperately, and then lied again, “He is inside. And coming back, soon.”
Laughter.
“Ohh, I don’t think so. I’ve been watching you for an hour, and there is no boyfriend.”
“I think I need to go,”
“But why!?!”
They goaded, “Tell us about the boyfriend?”
“His name is Azriel Bagarat,” she blurted out.
More laughter. Challenging, condescending laughter.
“Really?”
“Mr. Fancy Garage is your boyfriend?”
“Good one! I almost fell for it.”
“Azriel Bagarat-I-date-a-new-girl-weekly makes for a bad boyfriend, honey,”
“You aren’t exactly his type.”
Tears threatened to pour out of her eyes, and she was horrified by her body’s reaction to the taunting.
She threw, “and what type is that?”
“He doesn’t go for squeaky clean girls like you.”
“Maybe it’s an experiment!” laughed one of them. “He is into all sorts of fucking kink. Maybe he is wetting his cock in some virgin flesh,”
“Are you even legal?”
“You look awfully young.”
At this point, Elain was not above screaming for Lorcan, or Rowan, or anyone else. Her looking weak and pathetic was the least of her concerns.
For a moment, the teasing and the laughter died down. One of them exclaimed, “Oh hey. There you are!”
Fuck. Another one.
The scent hit her first. The sharp, intoxicating smell of his expensive Armani cologne. She’d recognize it anywhere. That hint of cedar and a chilled night air. That was him. Her home.
And then, the familiar dark arm slipped across her stomach, tugging her firmly to his front. Another hand slid to her throat, laying on it, but not squeezing. He held her tenderly, close to him, possessively.
“I missed my girl,” he whispered, his gravelly, husky voice so familiar to her ear it sent a shiver down her spine.
Why couldn’t it be like this forever? Her in his arms? Forever?
“My gorgeous girlfriend always brings all the boys to the yard,” he chuckled. And then, to Elain’s utter delight and pleasure, he placed a warm, open mouthed kiss on the side of her neck.
She shuddered.
He’d never kissed her. Never intimately. Never kissed her like this.
His. She was his. And he just marked his territory.
It was glorious. To be kissed by him was something that she’d dreamt of and here it was—unexpected, sensuous, surprisingly erotic.
His thumb stroked the side of her throat, and then he leaned in and kissed her again. Same spot. Her bare vulnerable throat, her pale neck, his for the taking. She had no control of the situation, and she loved it.
“Thank you for keeping my girlfriend company, gentlemen, but I’ll take it from here.”
Not so brave anymore, in the face of this towering mass of muscle and tattoos, the men sheepishly offered him a shot, which he knocked back and then even attempted to high-five him, though he drew the line at that.
As they scampered away, Azriel did not release Elain from his embrace. She just stood there, with his arm around her, her body pressed into his almost-naked body and all she wanted was to turn around and peek. Or have him kissed her again. She really, really wanted him to kiss her again.
He did not though.
Finally, his arm fell away and he stepped back, causing a sorrowful sigh to erupt in her chest.
She turned around. His face was unreadable, as always, and though she picked out his little tells and signs of emotions now, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“Thank you,” was all she could mutter. He didn’t answer. “I didn’t think you were coming,”
“No need to talk,” he cut her off. Then turned around and added, “feel free to leave with Lorcan or Cass.”
He was walking away when she called out, “Wait. Az. I want to talk. Please,”
“No,” he said simply.
She ran after him, trying to keep up with his long stride.
“Az, please, I need to,”
“It’s Azriel to you,” he corrected bluntly. “You don’t get to ‘Az’ me,”
She swallowed, tears stinging her eyes.
“Okay…okay,” she begged. “Azriel, I want to explain, please,”
“You don’t always get what you want,” he threw back.
She paused, but then added,
“But sometimes, you get what you need.”
A tiny smile twitched on his lips. But he schooled his face into neutrality and without turning to her, said,
“If you must tag along for the rest of the day, pretending like you are my girlfriend, it’s up to you,” he shrugged indifferently.
She didn’t care. At least he didn’t send her away. At least, she could be near him, and with time, she’d thaw his anger.
She followed him silently, like dog. Trying to be inconspicuous, but she stayed at his side, even if they didn’t talk and he continuously ignored her. It allowed her time to ogle his incredible body, which she did with relish and without shame. If he was going to be nasty to her, she at least would feast her eyes on all that muscular gorgeousness. Those Cadre men—they were all stunning, at least when it came to their physiques. Azriel, though, was a little more stunning than the others. Only Fenrys, perhaps, was at the same level of attractiveness.
They went to the bar and she followed him faithfully, not letting him out of her sight. He glanced at her, sighed, shaking his head with annoyance, but Azriel being Azriel, he ordered her a mojito, while he drank Sipsmith London Gin and tonic, and after a while, thrust the drink in her hand and muttered, “I am going swimming.”
She took it and sat on a chair, stiff-backed and patient, watching him.
When he emerged from the water, she was waiting for him with a fresh drink.
“Your tattoos look like wings.”
He rubbed a towel over the black and blue tattoos on his shoulders and arms and looked at her.
“Your tattoos,” she said again, watching his wet body and the markings on it come alive on his skin. When he was in the pool, and his arms rose and fell in the water, they looked like wings. “They look like wings. Bat wings.”
“Is that a compliment?” his voice was still cold, bored.
“Yes.”
She handed him his drink and then took his scarred hand in hers. He made to pull away, but she squeezed.
“You are my boyfriend,” she reminded him. “Would be strange if you didn’t want to hold my hand.”
He had no choice but to grip her hand back,
and fuck if it didn’t feel nice.
Two days, and he was going nuts without that little hand. Two days, and he’d missed her touch like it was his life’s necessity.
And then, she gently rubbed her thumb over his own.
“Stop that,” he ordered.
“No,” she said flatly.
“Elain,”
“Azriel,”
“It’s not going to work,” he warned.
She shrugged, “we’ll see.”
They took a few more steps, her thumb still stroking his fingers, and then he stopped abruptly.
“What do you want?”
She looked up at him and said, voice surprisingly firm, “I want to get into your car and drive home with you. I want to cook you dinner. I want to hold your hand. That’s what I want.”
“And what do I want?”
“You want the same thing,” she assured him, unusual confidence in her voice and on her face.
He watched her, unblinking, but she did not balk from his assessing gaze, did not step back. She just clutched his hand like life depended on it. His jowls twitched and he bit his lip, before says, “go and put some clothes on. We are going home.”
“No. Come with me,” she tugged him with her. “I don’t trust you.”
He smiled, at last, and her heart fluttered with joy at the sight of that magical smile.
They found their clothes, threw them atop the bathing suits and as soon as they were dressed, Azriel took her by the hand and led her out to the parking lawn. It was a Maserati Ghibli today, beautifully embellished with subtle pinstripes. No one would dare do this to their 90K car, but Azriel did. And it looked stunning.
The drive wasn’t comfortable.
He still wasn’t speaking to her and she just sat there, for an hour or more, in silence, hands on her lap.
Finally, once they began approaching the city, Elain asked, “where are you taking me?”
“Home,” was all he said, his first word since they got in the car.
She thought and said, “I don’t want to go home.”
His voice mocking and obsequious, he asked, “Please tell me, Elain, where should your personal Uber take you? Would you like a coffee? A snack? A walk in the park? A trip to the library? Should I deliver you into Dorian’s loving embrace?”
“Stop it,” she snapped at him, all red and angry. “Stop with all that!”
Azriel plowed forth, ignoring her command, “where was he today, by the way? Why was I stuck rescuing the damsel in distress? Where is brave Dorian?”
“Nobody asked you to rescue me!” she lied, suddenly realizing that maybe, that kiss meant nothing to him. That it was all for show.
“Yeah, you looked like you were handling that situation very well,” he decided dryly.
“You know,” she folded her arms on her chest, “do take me home.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
Once they entered the city proper, Azriel fought the traffic aggressively, swearing under his breath more frequently than usual, obviously intend on getting rid of her as soon as possible.
She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t break through. Couldn’t get to him, not around the walls that he’d constructed around himself. She thought that she could, but she was wrong.
Finally, they were coming towards her block.
The silence was stifling. Unbearable.
“Why did you do it?” he blurted suddenly.
She looked at him, but before she could offer any explanations or excuses, he continued, not looking at her, “Was I not enough? Was he better?”
“He is nothing,” she managed, desperation tinging her voice, her whole being. She reached out to touch him, but he jerked his arm away.
“Don’t,” he warned. “Nothing? Why would you do this, Elain? Was I not enough? Too weird? Too brown? Too low-born? Too fucked up?”
Elain stared at him in horror. She was numb. Words failed her.
He was shaking his head.
There was true sadness, dejection written on his face. Devastation.
“I was falling in love with you, Elain,” he said so softly, she barely heard the words. “For three months, I’ve been falling in love with you. I’ve loved everything about you. I knew that the hammer would drop…One day, it would drop because it’s not like this could ever be,” he made a wide gesture with his hand.
He stopped the car next to her house.
“But I thought that it would be me. That I’d fuck up somehow and you’d dump me. Which would be…expected…”
He sighed, his breath so ragged it sounded like a sob.
“But I didn’t expect this. Truly. Though looking back, I don’t know why I didn’t?” he shrugged. “That’s what Mor did—the only other one I thought that I loved. But we were young and stupid, so…” he was looking out the window, seemingly talking to himself, not to her anymore. “But now I am almost thirty and for once, I thought that maybe, just maybe, this one time, I’d get what I want.”
Elain was weeping silently, fat tears pouring onto her hands, dripping off her face.
“I wanted you more than anything, Elain.”
Elain. Elain. Elain.
She hated that he called her Elain.
She hated that he didn’t use his usual endearments with her, that she was no longer his ‘baby’ nor his ‘love’. She wasn’t his ‘gorgeous’ or his ‘beautiful’. She was just Elain.
There was no warmth in his voice. Only some kind of hollowed emptiness, instead of the usual teasing smirk, the undercurrent of humour and love, of tender softness that he always used with her. Only with her.
“You can have me,” she managed finally through her sobs. “You can ha--…”
He finally turned his head and looked at her, that gaze dark and pitiless.
“I am not sure I want you anymore. We’ll coordinate the wedding situation and we’ll be civil to each other, for Feyre and Rhys’s sakes. Goodbye Elain.”
She sat there. He waited. Then, with a groan, he got out and went to open the door for her.
As she stepped out of the car, she begged one more time, “Azriel. Please. Please just allow me the opportunity to talk to you,” she wiped her face, with her fist.
It destroyed him completely.
He didn’t know what to do with himself, as he tracked her movement, that childish, simple, raw flick of her fist over her eyes. It wasn’t the modelled, reserved, dab-the-eye practiced move that you saw on reality shows, the fake tears, the faux sadness.
This was Elain; sorrowful, devastated, begging.
“Please,” she pleaded again.
“I asked you to call it off,” he reminded her. “I begged you. You didn’t.”
She choked on a sob.
“You threw it in my face, Elain. This random man, whom you also led on, by the way. Led him believe that you were interested. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I am too old for this…Allow me the opportunity to just deal with this break up—or whatever it is—however I can. We both need to move on.”
He’d never left a crying woman on a sidewalk.
But he’d also never been in love before. And his heart had never been broken like this.
********************
Azriel
Nuala Gennaro has been trying to reach her boss for three days, to no avail.
He didn’t respond to texts, or to calls. He didn’t show up to work. He wasn’t at the garage, at the tattoo shop, or his design studio. He didn’t seem to be home either, because she drove by his loft a few times and the windows remained dark.
She had keys to his house, but that was a violation of privacy that she didn’t feel like engaging in just yet. Was this an emergency? He gave her the key for ‘emergencies’. Was this one? A healthy, 29-year-old handsome man disappearing for three days didn’t seem like an emergency, but still, Nuala was concerned.
She was going to give him one more day, and if he was still AWOL then she’d begin to worry.
Azriel was responsible. Whatever was happening in his life typically did not reflect on his work ethic. Besides, he was usually so guarded and seemingly unemotional, it was hard to say if he was affected by anything. Nuala had met him in high school—a beautiful, quiet, mysterious boy who looked like a fallen angel and who seemed unusually confident and astute for his age.
They reconnected after he and his brothers returned from the Navy. He was darker and quieter than she remembered, and hardened in his manner and bearing, and had a haunted look in his eyes which worried Nuala for quite some time. She’d been apprenticing as a tattoo artist and they’d met to discuss her joining his venture. She wasn’t sure if this whole garage/restaurant/tattoo parlour for rich people thing was going to be feasible or even realistic, but Azriel believed in the concept and somehow, got her enflamed by his passion as well. They’d slept together over the years, but even if she would have wanted more, he wasn’t willing to give it to her. Azriel went through women with the determination to conquer, mild interest and lack of follow up. But he never gave any of himself to them. Pleasure—yes. Self—no. So, Nuala had decided—staying with him and in his life, in his business, as his protégé and associate was more important than having him as a lover, even if he was by far the best lover she’d ever had.
The only thing that did seem to affect him—deeply, powerfully—was Elain Archeron.
Nuala didn’t think that it would happen. Didn’t think that Azriel was a man to fall in love so passionately, so completely, and even if he was denying it to himself, Nuala knew him well enough to know the truth. And whatever happened between him and Elain, approximately a week ago or so, truly devastated him.
Prior to his disappearance, he operated as if he was in some sort of fog. He answered questions, he gave instructions and directions, he did whatever was expected of him—met with clients, held meetings with his car suppliers, negotiated deals—but his heart was not in it. His beloved business was no longer his priority, and that confounded Nuala, for she had never seen him like this before.
She arrived early, earlier than usual, because she needed to get crackin’. Without Azriel, things seemed…tighter…more difficult. She’d never noticed it, but somehow, he carried this business, made it seem easy, and she falsely believed that it was a walk in the park. Gods, it wasn’t! It was busy, and difficult, and required constant attention and decision making, and reports only piled on her desk—financials, inventory, guest lists, requests, specs. It was endless.
Azriel’s office, a glass cube perched at the top of the building and overlooking everything below, the entire operation, was very dimply lit this early morning. Cassian installed one-way floor to ceiling windows in the office, so no one could look inside, but Azriel was able to see everything, if he so desired.
Nuala climbed the industrial-style stairs and opened the door without knocking.
At first, she thought that there was a fire. The office was entirely engulfed in smoke, but before she could hit the alarm button, nauseatingly pungent stench of tobacco assaulted her nostrils.
“What the hell?!” she exclaimed, rubbing her eyes, and rushing to open the outside windows. She left the door open as well, to encourage some sort of ventilation.
“What the hell,” she muttered again, finally making out Azriel in the dimness, who was sprawled on the leather sofa, in jeans and boots and a black t-shirt, his arm hanging listlessly to the floor, a cigarette between his fingers. On the floor, an almost empty bottle of Jameson’s and an overflowing ashtray, stuffed to the brim with butts. Tom Waits’s insanely gravelly, bourbon-and-tobacco-soaked voice filled the space as well.
“Wow,” she crossed her arms on her chest. “Wow.”
“Why are you here so early?” he asked by way of greeting.
“Funny thing—my boss disappeared for three days. Four days, actually. No word. No text. No call. No email. No warning. No idea whether he is dead or alive. So yes, it’s made for some early mornings for some of us.”
No answer.
He took a deep drag of his cigarette and said nothing.
“What the fuck, Az?”
“Like you said,” he shrugged indifferently, “I am the boss. I don’t have to report to anyone.”
Nuala bit her lip, but did not retort in the way she wanted to retort.
“Where were you?” she inquired calmly.
“Vegas.”
“Vegas?”
“Rhys’s Bachelor Party.”
“Oh.”
“I won money. It’s somewhere,” he glanced around absently. “Give it to some charity…”
“Which one?”
“I don’t care.”
“Fine.”
She didn’t push him. But added, “you can’t smoke here.”
“It’s my shop,”
“Even though. State and city regulations.”
He put out his cigarette compliantly.
“It’s 5 am. When did you start drinking?” she asked, pointing to the bottle.
He gave a lazy glance and shrugged,
“Technically, I didn’t stop drinking…It’s been a few hours…”
She was shaking her head.
He stared into the ceiling blindly, wordlessly.
Nuala didn’t know, but she also knew. So she took pity on him.
“Az,”
“I’d like to be alone now.”
“I will leave you alone,” she promised. “But…” she let out a whoosh of air, preparing herself. “Elain,”
He didn’t react.
“Elain is downstairs.”
To that he did react. He sat up so quickly, she didn’t track the movement with her eyes.
“I found her on the steps, outside,” said Nuala. “She looks like hell. I barely recognized her.”
“Why is she here?” he asked stupidly.
“I think you should probably ask her that. She wouldn’t come inside,” Nuala explained. “She said that she’s been sitting outside since 4 am, hoping to catch you.”
But Azriel was already out the door, sprinting down the stairs, making Nuala gasp, as he took three at a time, and she feared that he’d fall down on the concrete floor and break every bone in his body.
It was only five in the morning, and the streets, even NYC streets, were empty.
It was drizzling, a summer thunderstorm about to erupt.
Elain was sitting on the doorstep, arms wrapped around her knees, huddling into herself in the morning chill.
“Elain,”
She jumped up and turned to him.
He never saw her like this—wrecked. Utterly devastated. Wilted.
His lovely flower girl, his little rose, his darling beauty—wilted. Instead of her usual colouring of pink and golden, caramel and honey and cream, she looked black and white. Like everything was leeched out of her, every spark, all joy, each remarkable hue.
They did not greet each other. She just looked at him, and,
“I’ve hurt you,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady, the tone firm. “I know that. And you can leave and discard me, and you have every right,”
Azriel just stood there, looking at her, unable to get enough. Thinking that there was a possibility that this was going to be one of their last conversations. And that possibility was unacceptable to him. It was intolerable.
The rain began to fall.
Azriel moved under the awning, angling his body so she would come and stand under it as well, but she didn’t move.
Steady droplets pounded the pavement, giving off that fresh smell of wet asphalt. The air was heavy and humid and felt unsettled, like it was preparing for a torrent.
“But know this one thing,” she continued, staring at him, unblinking, eyes brimming with tears. “I fell in love with you on Saturday, May 9th, at 7:14 in the morning. I had loved you every moment of my life since then. I will love you every moment of my life until I die. Nothing will ever change that. I don’t speak to you as some besotted, inexperienced girl, who is smitten by a handsome man…I speak to you from my soul. You have my heart, Azriel. Every broken and sad piece of me, you’ve managed to put together with your beautiful, scarred hands. I will never ask for anything of you—not even a word back, but I needed you to know this. I want you know that I’ve never loved anyone, no man, no being, not my sisters or my parents, as much as I love you. All my joy, my peace, my dreams are connected to you. You are the first thing I think of when I wake up, and the last when I fall asleep—and then I dream of you. I don’t care if you know this, but I’ve built up my whole life around you in my head, all my fantasies are about you. All I want is to love you. That is all. Not very ambitious, I know,” she wiped the tears that were flooding her face, mixing with the rain, “but I can’t think of anything that would ever bring me more happiness, more satisfaction than to love you. And…” she choked a quiet sob, “if you don’t want me—that is alright…I want you to be happy. And if I don’t make you happy, then, so be it, but,”
Azriel couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t contain his bursting breath, his aching heart. Every bit of him felt electrified, wild, untamed.
He grabbed her, his arm pressing her soaking wet body to him, the rain pouring over them, and she trembled and sobbed next to him. Such indescribable hope in her eyes. That maybe, just maybe, it would all turn out like her fantasies.
He cupped her wet, pale face in his palm and murmured,
“You want me?”
Her trembling fingers traced his cheekbone and she nodded mutely.
“Say it,” he groaned.
“I want you,” she whispered.
“Say more,” he begged. “Say everything.”
“I love you. I choose you. I want you.”
He soaked it all up. Every breath. Every word. Every emotion on her face.
“Well,” he muttered, “if we are keeping score…then I fell in love with you on Tuesday, May 5th, at 4:47 in the afternoon.”
She laughed through her tears, clutching at him with desperate hands, as if fearing that he would disappear. Turn around and leave her.
But he wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.
He was exactly where he wanted to be. Yearned to be all his life.
“First glance, baby,” he lovingly caressed her face, “first glance. Love at first sight.”
She kissed the tips of his fingers.
“You are my home, Elain,” he wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him, her cheek pressed to his chest, his hand cradling her head, “my favourite person in my life. With you, all things are possible. Sometimes, I feel like I can fly. Like I’ve grown wings and I hear the song of the wind. But I think that it’s just your voice in my head. You won’t leave, right?”
She chuckled and shook her head, “No. Never.”
“Because this week,” he shuddered, “it’s like I lost a limb…There was this phantom reminder of you, always within me, and yet, you weren’t there. I couldn’t reach and find you next to me. I’ve never felt such emptiness,” he brought her hand to his chest and lay it on her booming heart, “there was nothing here,” he pressed her hand closer, and she felt the steady beat, “empty…You weren’t with me, and there was nothing left.
“I think I’ve been in love with you—forever. I don’t even believe in past lives or other worlds, but sometimes I feel like I’ve known you for eternity.”
She raised her face to him, surprise and awareness in her red-rimmed eyes,
“I feel the same. Az, I’ve always felt the same thing!”
“Yeah?”
“Yes,” she nodded vigorously, “when we held hands the first time, when we just met, I recognized your touch. I knew your scars. It was all familiar to me, like stepping back into my own home, after a long absence. Reacquainting myself with something that I already loved.”
He cupped her face in his hands and asked,
“May I kiss you?”
“You have to kiss me,” she smiled a happy, luminous smile at him. “I’ve waited for a long time for you to kiss me.”
Azriel smiled, and looked up, rain drenching his face and their bodies.
“Are we really going to do this? In the pouring rain?”
She was grinning, smiling happily, nodding, “All the cliches in the world!”
He clasped her jaw in his hand, wrapping his other arm tighter about her.
“I loved when you kissed me at the party,” she admitted, a little breathless.
“Yes?” he murmured and then dipped his head, and gently pressed his lips to her throat.
Elain shuddered against him, her breasts, nicely full, round and soft pressed tightly against his chest, and she sighed her pleasure.
“Like that?” he whispered against her cold, wet skin, and she half-moaned, nodding. So he kissed her neck again, on the other side, raking his teeth gently along the warm, pulsating vein. He kissed along her collarbones, tender and sweet, but with acute intention. Her breasts moved against his chest, their shirts nor her bra providing much of a barrier between his skin and her firm, swollen nipples.
Up her throat he went with his lips, kissing softly, until he pulled away for a moment, their breaths mingling, warm next to each other. He tilted her face just so, to have better access to her full mouth, and then kissed the plump lower lip. She clutched at his shirt and pulled him closer, the rain forgotten, the world encapsulated in his mouth, in the loving pressure of his lips against hers.
Elain looked irresistible. In his arms, where, let’s face it, she belonged, with her cheeks finally, finally taking on the familiar rosy blush.
Azriel, all 6”4 or “5 of the dark, bestial sexiness of him was wrapped around her. The low, sensual purr that he emitted turned into something more primal, hungrier when his mouth moulded into hers. The base, animalistic attractiveness of him, the bronze arms, the thick markings of his tattoos all over his skin, slithering like shadows, was almost too much for Elain to handle all at once, and she moaned, loud, and desperate against his lips. He brushed his nose against her cheek, and then nose to nose, and she was so stupidly needy for him that she struggled to stay upright. He brushed his fingertips over her lips, squeezing them between his and her own, and she licked on the pad of his thumb, laving some of the scars with the tip of her tongue.
Gods, this man could kiss.
Brutal, savage and noble--all amalgamated into one indescribable, unforgettable experience. Hungry and knowing, agonizingly slow, he devoured her mouth like it was some succulent, exotic fruit that he’s been craving. His lips explored her thoroughly, unhurriedly, tasting and savouring, caressing and worshipping. It was she who slipped her tongue inside his mouth, tentatively at first, but then gaining in boldness and confidence, especially once he sucked her in and stroked it with his own. He tasted of something masculine: alcohol, maybe, deep and rich and smokey, and tobacco, certainly, which, surprisingly, she enjoyed, but also something sexual. If Elain ever thought that she could taste passion, this lazy, indulgent sucking of his tongue on hers was exactly that. He groaned into her mouth, low and hot, and then licked on her tongue, with sensual playfulness which she loved.
She was hot in his arms, against his towering, heated body, and even the pouring rain couldn’t cool her off. The slabs of his abdominal muscles pressed into her belly and she was growing positively addicted to having him so close to her, his massive strength enveloping her so nicely, cushioning her against him. Nothing in her life has ever felt so wonderful, so sublime as Azriel felt in her arms.
Their kiss went on and on, heady and glorious, with him exploring every bit of her mouth with his tongue and lips, his hands caressing her body unobtrusively.
“Gods, I want to kiss you for eternity,” he moaned, tearing himself away from her lips at last.
She was panting, glassy-eyed, in love. He squeezed her face between his palms, looking down at her, her happiness, the unabashed joy in her eyes.
He’d finally made someone happy.
“Okay,” she agreed easily.
He smiled and kissed her again, then again, his lips creating a certain magic between his mouth and her skin and their bodies.
Elain had fought for him.
She didn’t give up. Didn’t shrug it all off. Didn’t leave in anger or panic. His absence meant something to her—perhaps, meant more than he could understand. He knew the misery of not having her in his life. It was only a week, but it was a week of pure hell. Now, he assumed that it wasn’t only he who felt that gaping chasm in his heart. She, for some inexplicable reason, loved him. Of that, he was certain.
“Now, I think we’ve satisfied any girl’s quota of romantic cheesiness,” he decided and she laughed, slapping his bicep lightly. He kissed her softly, “and I am taking you inside,” he said.
Elain only now realized that her feet haven’t been touching the asphalt for the duration of the kiss. She was literally floating aboveground, in his arms, in the throes of their first kiss.
The cheesiness quotient has been achieved indeed.
“Will you kiss me more?” she asked, as he swung her in his arms and carried her inside the shop.
“I am confident that I will never stop kissing you,” he assured and made his way up the stairs, to the office, clutching the dripping mess that she was in his arms.
She’s been here before, but he brought her straight into the attached bathroom, which was appointed outlandishly, and with a nice shower too.
“Get in there,” he ordered, “now. Before you catch a cold because of your love for kissing in the rain,”
She giggled, kiss-drunk and toed off her soaking wet converse that smacked limply on the tiled floor.
“But what am I going to wear?”
“My clothes, obviously,” he shrugged. “Unless you don’t want to, which is fine, because naked is just fine by me. Actually, preferred,”
She snickered, but looked at him, a little uncertain, and he rolled his eyes and muttered, “yes, yes, I will leave! Don’t worry. Though you know, I will eventually see everything anyway. So your modesty is misplaced on me.”
Azriel was correct. A hot shower was perfect. Despite it being late August, standing under pouring rain wasn’t as much fun as they made it seem in the movies.
The door opened and he came in, “here is some stuff for you.”
She looked at him over her shoulder, probably a little sultrier than she intended, and he winked, “Nice ass!”
“Ugh, stop looking!” she croaked, but he only laughed.
“You are the one with the bare butt!”
Then, he scratched his chin and bit his lip, making no move to leave.
“Az!” she exclaimed, blushing, but also kind of … intrigued.
“This is a very, very, very nice ass,” he muttered to himself, but loud enough for her to hear. Her blush only intensified, when he said, “the things I am going to do with it. Mmmm,” he rubbed his lower lip with his thumb, as if contemplating what he will be doing with her butt and then finally walked out, shaking his head.
When Elain emerged from the bathroom, with her hair wrapped in the towel and wearing Azriel’s t-shirt and shorts, she found him in a leather chair, sipping coffee. He’d also changed and his hair was mussed and damp, his bare feet crossed at the ankles, resting on a leather stool.
“There is coffee for you,” he jerked his chin towards a marble coffee table that had a basket of pastries and two large cups of coffee.
He marked everything.
How she looked in his clothes, which were much too big on her, yet cozy, though the shorts that she wore were hilarious, reaching below her knee.
How she brought him his coffee first, before taking her cup.
How she sat on the stool, by his feet and crossed her legs, before giving him a croissant and biting into her own.
“Have you warmed up?” he asked, sipping his coffee. Chugging gallons of coffee American style wasn’t his thing—he preferred quick, small espressos, but this giant cup did take the chill away.
She nodded.
“Do you want to talk?” he asked.
She tensed right away, and he said, “All is forgiven, I swear. “
She eyed him suspiciously, nevertheless.
He smiled at her, and added, “But...I think that I need to understand what happened? Did I do something to,”
“No!” she exclaimed immediately. “No. It was nothing you did. Never think that it was you,”
“Alright,” he said calmly. “Then what was it?”
She didn’t look up from her cup, running a finger over the rim.
“Talk to me, love,” he encouraged softly.
“You’ve consumed me, Azriel,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “From the moment I saw you, you’ve consumed me. And I guess…” she sighed, “I was stupid…a stupid, stupid person because I didn’t know,”
“What?”
“Whether I was infatuated, or in love with you. So I thought that maybe, if I expose myself to another man, even in some minor way, I might be able to tell what I feel,”
“And? Did you?”
“Dorian…” she swallowed nervously, “he is a nice guy. He is in Law School with Nesta—that’s how I know him. When he asked to go to dinner, and I said yes,”
She looked up at him, tears threatening to spill out from her eyes,
“And I felt nothing,” she admitted, her voice broken somehow. “I could only think of you. The entire time, I could only think of you and I knew that it wasn’t fair to him…”
Azriel agreed, “probably not”.
“And I knew that I’d made a colossal mistake… But,” she set her cup on the floor and squeezed her fingers. “I…”
She halted. Said nothing else.
Azriel waited.
“What?” he probed, sensing that there was something she wasn’t telling him. He reached for her, but she only shrunk into herself.
“Elain, what is it?” he pressed.
She blushed and murmured, “promise me you won’t leave me, if I tell you.”
His brow furrowed, “Please,” he begged, “tell me what’s going? You are legit scaring me right now.”
“You won’t lea--,”
“Don’t be ridiculous! I am not leaving you, no matter what. But are you alright?”
She pulled her hair from the towel and it spilled over her shoulders, half-obscuring her face. He reached and tucked the wet strands behind her ears, so he could see her face.
“Talk to me, baby,” he urged gently.
She exhaled and then said, looking straight at him,
“I’ve never been with a man, Az.”
He looked at her and then blurted, absurdly, “Like a virgin? But you are so hot!”
She couldn’t help and burst out laughing.
“I guess not hot enough,” she shrugged, a bit more relaxed about the situation now that he seemed relieved and smirking too.
He exhaled, deeply, bubbling his lips, “Phew…I thought it was something,” he shook his head, not able to express his relief. “Important…Something, I don’t know, serious?”
“What would be serious?”
“I don’t even know,” he admitted, “but certainly more serious than a hymen!”
He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips.
“And I appreciate you telling me,” he said seriously, kissing the inside of her hand, but then, that glint in his eyes returned and he asked, “so did you want the hunky Dorian to deflower you?”
She pushed at him with her foot and he fell back dramatically in his chair,
“Auuu, you are so unbelievably violent!” he complained, rubbing his side.
“I can be even more violent!” she threatened.
He was laughing, but then he caught her feet in his hands and squeezed them gently, holding them on his lap.
“So you didn’t have boyfriends in high school? In college?” he asked at last, genuinely perplexed.
She sighed and explained,
“In high school I was dating Luce,”
“You were dating a girl?” his brow furrowed. “I didn’t know,”
She started to laugh,
“No! Luce is a man. Lucien,”
“Oh…Oh. Every time you mentioned Luce, I just assumed he was a she.”
“No, he is my best friend. The closest friend I’ve ever had, besides maybe Nesta. We’ve always been close and then in high school, we began dating,” she tugged on her wet hair, “or rather, go on dates.”
“What’s the difference?”
“I didn’t know either—not in the beginning. But then, when we were juniors in 11th grade, he came out, to me only.”
“Ahhh,”
“Lucien’s step-father is really horrible. Like, awful. Physically abusive to all his sons, and always fancied himself this alpha male. So for Lucien to come out to him would have been suicide.
“We agreed that we’d continue our ‘dating’, until we graduate, and Luce was looking at schools only in California. As far as possible from here, from Beron.”
“And you were…okay with it?” he inquired, gently massaging her feet.
She shrugged, “I suppose I was. Luce and I had a good relationship,”
“But it was without any,”
“Intimacy,” she nodded. “I don’t know, I suppose it was enough…My mother had died recently and we lost most of our money, so I guess dating and boyfriends weren’t a priority, if I am being honest.”
He nodded with understanding.
“And college?”
“I had a boyfriend,” her voice wobbled a little, “but he…”
The heavy gaze that Azriel levelled at her told her that he already guessed.
“Sometimes,” she said, “when you are in the situation, you don’t see the warning signs,”
“Did he hit you?” his voice, so cold and menacing, sent a chill down her body.
She shook her head, “No. It didn’t get that far…Cass interfered,”
“Cass?”
“We’ve known Cass for at least a year,” she reminded him, “before he started dating Nesta. He spent a lot of time with us, at the house, because I think he didn’t want to part with Nesta,”
Azriel smiled, “No he didn’t. He wouldn’t stop talking about her for a year…I’d never seen him like that. First Rhys, then Cassian…Guess there is something special about these Archeron sisters,” he decided and stroked her face lovingly, smiling at her. She tucked his palm between her cheek and shoulder and kissed it.
“They do have a tendency to fall in love with the three brothers,” she agreed.
“Yes, they do.”
“Cass, he called us ‘his girls’—Feyre and I. Always asking after ‘his girls’, bringing us presents, doing fun things with us. And I came to love him so much,” she sighed. “And I know that he truly loves us too…But you know Cass—he is a no-nonsense kind of a guy. So once, he observed Graysen with me,”
“Graysen?” Azriel rolled his eyes. “That’s a horrible fucking name,”
She laughed,
“It matched his personality. But you know, on paper, he looked great. Handsome, good family, money,”
“So basically Dorian?”
Elain rolled her eyes,
“You are never going to have me live this down, will you?”
“Not for a while.”
“At least you are honest. Gray, he just…didn’t care, I guess? It was all about him. When I’d talk about opening my shop, it would just be a plain ‘no’. He’s put me down…” she sighed, “sometimes comment on my weight—I was either too fat or too thin.” Azriel flinched at that. She continued, “He’d tell me what to eat. What to wear. Where to go,”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered.
Then, he sat up straight in the chair and opened his arms to her.
“Come here.”
Elain, a bit unsure, and a bit rattled by the memories, moved towards him. He cupped her face in his broad scarred hands and said, “All in the past. Now, it’s just you and me.”
She nodded, gently squeezing his wrists. He leaned in closer and she nodded. His sort of power, the more aggressive and primal, and seemingly more dominant than what Graysen could ever conjure up, did not scare Elain at all. He beckoned and seduced her with that pursuit and challenge, but he did not frighten or oppress. It was similar to what Cassian possessed and how he managed to seduce Nesta with it, turned her compliant to his demand and instruction, or Lorcan with Elide. Azriel’s power, his seduction, were more cerebral, his affection passionate, but controlled. Elain could abandon herself to him, and yet she knew that she’d never be abused or taken advantage of, no matter how much control she relinquished.
This kiss was sultry and voluptuous, and it felt dirtier, heavier than their first one. He sucked her lips, is tongue softly grinding against her in a smouldering, almost smug rhythm. He fucked into her mouth steadily, and purposefully, rendering her completely breathless in his arms almost instantly, forcing all thoughts of previous loves and heartaches out of her head. She made a tiny, strangled noise deep inside her throat and squeezed his wrists harder.
“Tell me things, baby,” he muttered heatedly against her lips, thumbs brushing over her cheeks.
She smiled, “what things would you like to hear?” He kissed her softly, lips pecking on hers playfully, and said, “all the things…all the good things that you told me before,”
“That I love you?” she asked simply, looking at him with earnest, undimming desire.
“Yes,” he groaned, pulling her closer to him, until she was straddling his thighs, her legs naturally falling on either side of him. A desperate moan escaped his lips, as Elain licked on them with the tip of her tongue, before he demanded, between kisses and caresses of his tongue in her parted mouth, “more,”
“I love you. I love you,” she breathed, then panted, “you are mine…I am yours. Forever, if you’d like,”
“I’d like forever,” he agreed.
She pulled away, her soft, lovely face serious,
“Az,”
“Elain,”
“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” she asked, and he grinned, nodding. She sounded absurdly solemn about this, like she was signing a business contract. “I love you. I want you to be my boyfriend,”
“Alright, babygirl, I will be your boyfriend,” he nodded easily.
“No jokes.”
“No jokes.”
He then said in turn, “But you’ll be mine.”
She nodded.
“In every way,” he added, in a tone that did not allow space for much argument. “Body,” and he lightly ran his knuckles against the side of her breast, and she nodded. He added, “but I want more,”
“What do you want, Az?”
“Love,” he said simply.
She kissed him. “I love you,” she said.
He waited.
“I chose you, Azriel, the moment I saw you. When my heart dropped at the sight of you, and when everything fell into place. I don’t mind choosing you for the rest of my life, if you have me,” she murmured shyly.
“I will have you,” he agreed, her admission making him swallow hard, a thick glob of air lodged in his throat. He might have cried, if he weren’t so happy. His flower girl. His.
He looked and looked, and considered something. She waited, silent. Silence was always a friend between the two of them. Silence was easy and unoppressive and welcome. It allowed them space, and yet they remained together in that mute, mutual understanding. While he was thinking, she took his hand and softly kissed each scarred fingertip.
“I am calling on my bargain,” he declared suddenly, and stroked her head.
Confused, she scrunched her face and muttered, “what?”
He grabbed her behind in his strong hands and somehow, managed to rise up, with her clutching at him. His nose burrowed into her ear and she squirmed, giggling, when he grunted, “what a nice little ass!”
“You seem to like it,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around him.
“I love it!”
“Now what about this bargain?” she reminded him, a bit concerned. “What are we doing?”
“Whatever I want!”
“Az!”
“Lainey.”
He headed for the door, with her in his arms, and she screeched, “I don’t even have shoes on!”
“You don’t need shoes where we are going,”
“Azriel!”
“Why are you so fussy?” he mused, smirking, as he made it down the stairs.
“Why won’t you tell me?”
“I don’t have to tell you. All I promised was that it’s not going to be ‘bad’ whatever that means.”
She sighed, shaking her head, muttering under her breath. He, in turn, very much enjoyed her clutching at him, her body in his arms, her wet hair swiping over his arm. She looked very cute, if very ridiculous in his clothes, and frankly, he was too elated, too disbelieving that this was even real, to let her go. He held her and nuzzled at her neck, at her face, sometimes returning to her beautiful mouth.
He carried her through the still-empty premises, though waiters at the bar and delivery people in the kitchen were starting their day. When they saw their boss carrying a woman, who frequently visited him here in the past few months, they pretended not to notice, as if this was a normal affair. In fact, no other woman ever came here, to visit him. He’s never been seen with a woman, never said that he had a girlfriend, even if women seemed to lose their minds in his presence. But until this one—absolutely not the type of a woman he typically attracted—he never allowed anyone to get close to him.
Azriel made his way into the cavernous insides of the building, at last entering the tattoo shop that he had on premises. It was elegantly outfitted and bore his usual aesthetic—restrained, modern, striking with its use of black, white, and splashes of cobalt.
Elain looked around, when he set her down and pointed out, “I’ve been here before.”
He nodded.
As she wandered about, looking at various lithographs and prints with unique tattoo designed, she finally stopped abruptly and whirled to him,
“No!”
He was laughing under his breath.
“No!” she exclaimed again.
“No what?” he winked, sitting down on a stool, and patting on a leather recliner beside it.
“You…” she fumed. “No!”
He tsked, “A bargain is a bargain.”
“Azriel!” she stomped her foot.
He crossed his arms on his chest and looked at her, “Elain.”
“I am not getting a tattoo!”
“You most certainly are. Stop being a wuss and come here.”
“I am not going to,” she insisted.
“You know,” he notified her conversationally, as he started to prep his equipment, “a shitty little Bagarat tattoo is like $800 bucks,”
“Congratulations. Give it to someone else,” she offered, scowling. “Maybe someone would like a sleeve for twenty grand!”
“I won’t give you a sleeve. Jeez, you’ll probably faint at the first prick,”
She huffed, “I will not!”
He shrugged.
She pressed, “I will not. I am not afraid of needles and I have a high pain tolerance.”
“Lots of talk, babe, no action,”
Stomping angrily, she crossed the open space and challenged, “do you even know how to tattoo?”
“Cass and Rhys…” he winked. “And whenever Rowan decides to add to his collection…Or Gavriel,”
Those were some of the finest, most intricate designs that Elain’s ever seen.
“You did those?” she asked, brow furrowed.
He nodded.
“They are beautiful,” she whispered.
“Will you trust me?” his voice softened and he extended his hand to her.
Elain sighed and then slid on the lounge chair. It was comfortable. She was nervous.
“What will it be?” she asked. “May I see it?”
Wordlessly, he pulled a piece of paper from a folder, but then did not give it to her. She waited. He suddenly seemed uncertain, almost shy.
“Az,” she said gently, “may I see it? I am sure it’s beautiful.”
He swallowed and then explained, “I traced it the first day…evening…When we met, and you were here, at the garage. I,” he exhaled and then looked at her, “anyway…I was overwhelmed, I guess. I fell in love with you and all I could think of was you.”
The words warmed her up, and everything in her softened at his nervousness, at his admission.
“I want it,” she took the paper from him.
“It’s just for you,” he clarified. “It’s unique to you. I needed to quiet my brain and capture the essence of you, and this was it,”
Elain looked at the drawing. It was smaller than she expected, and rendered masterfully—an absolutely exquisite flower cradled in an embrace of two wings.
He swallowed tightly, and then said, “It’s called On the Wings of Desire.”
Without saying anything, Elain pulled up the shirt that she was wearing, just up to her chest. He looked down at her, expectantly.
She put her hand under her left breast, where her heart was and said, “there. I need it there.”
He nodded, remaining silent.
She saw that this was important to him, some ritual that he desired for her to go through, some sort of marking. That’s what it was. It dawned on her, at last. This was his mark, on her. He was going to do it himself, put a part of him, of his creation, of his work, not just on her skin, but within her blood, into her.
She clasped his hand and his eyes flew to her, a shadow of apprehension and anxiety in them, probably as much emotion as he’d be willing to show. He feared that she’d changed her mind.
“Az,” she licked her lip, suddenly nervous to request this of him. “Can you,”
“What?”
“Can you do it on you as well?” she proposed quietly.
He, it seemed, was unable to verbalize what he needed to, so she helped him, “Same spot, alright? Across your heart. So you know that I am always with you, as you are with me.”
He nodded vigorously, clearly relieved and absolutely in love with her proposition.
“Who will do it?” she wondered. “Please don’t ask me!” she laughed.
He smirked. “Nuala. She will do it. Only Nuala or Rowan tattoo me.”
She nodded and then relaxed back into the leather.
“No crying,” he said.
“Alright,” she shrugged. “Kind of weird that you are this sensitive to pain, but okay. I’ll hold your hand.”
He was laughing.
“I thought only Nesta had a big mouth like that,” he said, as he prepped the skin and pulled on his gloves.
“Mistake number one,” teased Elain.
“I am seeing that now,”
He then said, “Okay, I may accidentally brush against the boobie,”
“How accidentally?” she chuckled, while he pressed the outline into her skin. Then, the needle began its wheezing and Elain winced, as the first prick of the needle stung her skin.
“You good?”
“Yeah,” it was more painful than she expected, and she figured that the spot that she selected was probably not the best and would hurt more than an arm or a leg, but she was set on it.
“Absolutely, totally accidentally,” he lied. “You are the one who chose the spot,” he pointed out.
Elain was a trooper. She did not make any hissing noises or any sounds at all throughout the tattooing. The shading was the longest and most painful part, and even then, she remained composed and only winced a few times.
“I am sorry,” he murmured repeatedly, especially when a bit of blood seeped onto her skin.
“Prick your finger,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Prick your finger,”
“And?”
The soft doe-eyes blinked at him a few times, and she said, “I think you know what to do.”
So he did. He pricked his finger and mixed his blood with hers.
Nuala offered to tattoo ‘No Regerts’ on Azriel’s chest, if Elain so desired. She considered it, while Nuala explained that Azriel was now at their mercy and they could do whatever they wanted to him. At the end, he walked away with only a small tattoo over his heart.
It was about 8 am when Azriel and Elain left the garage. The sun was shining and there were no remnants of the previous storms. It was like it never happened. But it did happen. Everything happened.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, slinging his heavy, muscled arm around her shoulders. She’s been clutching at her side the whole time.
She shook her head no and looked at him. He smiled and then kissed her.
“I love you,” he murmured suddenly. Elain’s face broke into a loving smile and she reciprocated by kissing him back. “Let’s go home.”
#la dolce vita#elriel fanfic#elriel#azriel fanfic#azriel fanfiction#elriel fanfiction#elain fanfic#my writing#new chapter#acotar fanfiction#sjm books#azriel#azriel and elain#elain archeron#elain
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